Caught In Your Bad Romance
by BruisedSmile
Summary: Rachel gets an unexpected interruption to her ballet practice, one that turns her life upside down.
1. Chapter 1

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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Rachel breathed out slowly as she pointed her feet and twisted her body in a smooth, graceful spin; executing a series of perfectly controlled turns across the polished floor of the small studio. Concentration burned in her eyes yet her face remained professionally serene, betraying nothing of the effort and strain in every part of her body. She had always found a sense of comfort in the discipline and silent beauty of ballet; giving her physical form a turn of expressing what she so often relied upon her exceptional voice to do for her. It was a relief, in some ways: just to move, and breathe, and be. Performing for no-one but herself. She was her own harshest critic anyway: the one she would forever be striving to impress.

Slowly, she became aware of another presence intruding on her inward focus. A warm tingle ran down her neck as the sense of another set of eyes on her body intensified. She sighed mentally. She had _told_ him she would be hanging back after ballet class tonight to practice. The increased Glee rehearsals Mr Schue had introduced, while reassuring, had severely cut into the time she dedicated to her other future-star-making commitments, and she refused to let her standards slip. It had become quite a struggle to balance everything in her life, but Rachel considered it good practice for the high-pressure and demanding career in front of her. The starlight would be intense and she was determined to shine – not burn out.

Pushing back the disappointment that her preciously rare alone time had been interrupted, she dutifully composed her features into a painfully bright smile of welcome. She lifted her head as she spun around one final time – and the sight that greeted her nearly made her fumble her final position.

Her unannounced visitor was leaning back on the wooden barre, slender body angled with an easy casualness that suggested he somehow belonged there, simmering with the same authority he had always claimed over his surroundings. Arms crossed loosely over his chest, which was dressed in a familiar leather jacket, pushed up to the elbows, and complimenting his smart black jeans. His sense of style hadn't changed then. She ignored the tightening of her stomach that silently confirmed it was also just as effective as ever. His eyes that had been pinned on her dancing body, lifted to meet her face at the same moment hers did. A faint smile touched his lips as he saw her finally register him watching her.

'_Hi.'_

'_Hi.'_

Rachel suddenly felt dizzy with déjà vu. For a moment, the passing months dropped away into nothing and she was staring into a mirror of her past. And he was staring back. She quickly wiped the surprise from her face, adopting a mask of cool disdain. She crossed her arms tightly, barricading herself off.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded quietly, skipping any pleasantries or uncertainty, in no mood to prolong this abrupt encounter. "Lima is a long way from L.A." She met his eye unflinchingly, back stiff and straight. "That was the whole point, if I recall."

If her words hit any nerve, he hid it perfectly. Not that she'd expect anything less from him. He shrugged. "Spring break," he said calmly, though his lips twitched up in mutual appreciation of the irony of the situation.

She nodded and looked down at her feet, at the pointed toe that was tracing soft circles on the floor in front of her. "So, what, instead of heading for the beach or the city, you figured you'd just swing by McKinley for old time's sake? Nostalgia value?" She was proud of how unconcerned she sounded. She never knew she could be this civil to such a sly bastard.

"Something like that."

Rachel said nothing, still tracing out her anxiety in gentle loops over the shiny wood. Her fingers dug in a little tighter to the elastic of her leotard.

"Heard you guys made Regionals."

She looked up at that. There was a curious half-smile of his face, as if he found something amusing about the achievement. Rachel bristled defensively. "Then I'm sure you also heard that it's _your_ alma mater we're competing against again." She smiled disarmingly. "Just like old times isn't it?"

He shook his head slowly. "They're not _my _team. Not anymore."

Rachel quirked an eyebrow, her smile tightening. "You can take the boy out of Carmel, but you can never take Vocal Adrenaline out of the boy. Isn't that what you taught me?"

He didn't respond, only returned her stare just as hard, until at last she shrugged. "If you're here to try and spy for them or something, don't even waste your time."

"Hardly."

"Doesn't matter anyway." Rachel brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she turned away. "We've only gotten better since last year, while their quality has dipped. Everyone says their act has gotten stale; that they've lost their edge. Though of course, they only ever did ride on soulless momentum and intimidation in the first place."

He couldn't help the smile on his lips. There was a backhanded compliment in there somewhere, whether she intended it or not. He found himself flashing back to their first meeting; _'Hellos' _exchanged and worlds colliding in the middle of a small music store what seemed like so long ago.

Lionel Richie had a lot to answer for.

He brought his attention back to the room only to find Rachel was still talking over her shoulder as she moved around the studio, gathering her things. She was always the master of the one-way conversation. Once she got into her full stride, participation requirement was minimal really.

"Mr Schue has us working on a really ambitious set list. Though I don't agree with all his choices, I admire his innovation, and he seems to taking on more of my ideas which is a welcome, if overdue, improvement. We've still work to do, but everyone's feeling very confident. We've learnt from our mistakes."

She kept her back turned to him but the pointed message under her words was clear. She wasn't going to let another victory be stolen from them. If he hadn't been watching her so closely, he might have missed the tensing in her shoulders. "You'll be proud to hear your teammates are still employing the same juvenile tactics in the feuding tradition you left behind." Her tone dropped about four degrees to a cool chill that made the hairs on his arms rise; but she only resumed tidying up, never letting her eyes stray to his corner of the room. "Kurt got his car foamed last week. Still, we've faced worse."

Rachel bit her lip and suppressed the tremble that was threatening to shake her voice. She blinked quickly, angry at how much that wound still smarted. The taught silence behind her was like a physical presence in the room, hardening into a barrier between them. Straightening up, she chanced a glance back at him, and saw his jaw clench and unclench in his otherwise unmoved posture; something dark flickering in his eyes that she might have once thought was guilt, shame or even remorse. But she knew now that Jesse St. James was incapable of such emotions.

"That was never my idea."

Rachel scoffed quietly. "How magnanimous."

Jesse narrowed his eyes but she had already looked away, suddenly more interested in the piano at the other side of the room. He watched the way her petite body turned away from him, arms wrapped around her stomach protectively.

'_I loved you.'_

He wondered if those words had hurt her the way they had haunted him.

He hadn't meant to say it. That was never a part of the dirty charade his team had cooked up, even as they had congratulated him on his suburb improvisation afterwards. No, those words had slipped from his mouth without warning or permission.

Slowly walking up to her, caught in those big, painfully expressive eyes as they bravely held his cool gaze, defying his humiliation. She didn't even look at his teammates that surrounded her, she spoke only to him: the one who had tricked her here and broken her heart, as she had gone on to declare in her typically dramatic turn of phrase.

'_Do it.'_

That was his girl: always commanding, even to the point of her own undoing. Playing a dangerous game of dare that she should have known she couldn't win. He looked into her eyes and saw his reflection mirrored back at him, and for a moment he didn't even recognise it. He stood in front of her, acutely aware of his team's eyes on him, waiting for his choice. Egg yolk dripped down her hair, shell fragments clinging to her shirt. Yet still she stood her ground. He frowned; how could someone be so vulnerable yet shatteringly strong at the same time? He could see every emotion as it crossed her face: she was always so easy to read, so easy to break with her open heart. It was time for her to learn better.

She never glanced away; forcing him to look her in the eye, to confront the truth of his actions. It would be him, _his_ final betrayal that would count, the one she would hold forever, and she was making sure he knew that there was no going back. He steeled himself. But then he saw it: a flicker in those soulful depths. A glimmer of doubt, a naïve trust she hadn't yet lost; a futile hope that he could still chose_ them_; still prove that even a little bit of their relationship had meant something. That spark of faith in him had nearly broken his façade and his show face slipped for one second, too fast to see.

And suddenly the bitter declaration was out there, never to be taken back. Not exactly the way he had ever envisaged saying those words for the first time. Not to her. And certainly not in the past tense. He had flung the words in her face like an angry accusation: like it was all _her _fault he had somehow succumbed to genuine feelings for the only girl who could potentially be his equal.

He saw the confusion widen in her eyes as she struggled to understand; felt his fist tighten as the egg broke over her forehead, ignoring the cold flinch inside his chest. She'd told him he held the power to break her, that day she sought him out in Carmel's auditorium. He'd just laughed, unconcerned and as yet unaware of just how far down the rabbit-hole this game would take him.

And so it was done. Play complete and role fulfilled, he walked away. He'd regained his place back with his true team, and in doing so had treated her no better than the jocks who had bullied her for years; the ones she had confided in him about. He brushed aside the sick feeling in his stomach. Why should this time be any different? Eggs or slushies – public humiliation was nothing she wasn't used to. Cars doors slammed and it was only then he realised that she had taken this fresh abuse with the same reserved dignity that he had admired about her before.

Rachel Berry was always surprising. Jesse St. James, star of Vocal Adrenaline, only ever lived up to expectations.

She shifted and his eyes accidently met hers in the mirrored wall beyond the piano. The memory passed between them, sharp with a pain neither would ever admit to. Quickly averting his gaze, Jesse stretched his arms along the barre behind him.

"How did you keep the club going? Thought they threatened to cut it."

She looked down and shrugged. "Strategic campaigning, a resurge of interest and a little blackmail bought us a stay of execution."

He raised his eyebrows with something almost like pride. Sounded like tactics worthy of the glory days of Vocal Adrenaline. Looked as if they had finally wised up to the way the game was played. From what he remembered about his brief sojourn behind enemy lines, he should have known New Directions wouldn't let go of something they loved without a fight, and he could easily picture Rachel confidently leading the charge to protect their little group. For a rag-tag glee club, their loyalty was surprisingly intense.

"This is our last chance. We have to make Nationals this time."

Both heard the edge of accusation in her voice but neither acknowledged it. He only nodded silently and watched as she took a deep drink of water. Nationals had been a bit of a rollercoaster last year, and for the first time Jesse had thought he might have understood the term: '_hollow victory'_. Sure, the result had been predictable and it had bought him a ticket out of Ohio, but he couldn't help feeling he had over-looked the true cost of such a price. He certainly never thought he would be standing back here in this dead-end town, almost a year later, by choice.

Rachel peered at him over the top of her water bottle, taking the chance to examine him more closely. It had been so long since they had actually been _alone _together, and she couldn't deny the electric atmosphere that was almost singeing her skin. She'd gone and seen them perform at Nationals of course, strictly out of professional interest. Watched from the safe anonymity of the audience as he worked that familiar spell over the crowd and claimed his prize, the one that would take him out of her orbit forever.

Or so she'd hoped.

He was still beautiful. His defined features had matured into the growing young man he was, and even through his layers, she could tell his body was just as finely toned as it had been when they had taken this ballet class together. This was an older, more experienced Jesse. One who was out in the big, wide world outside of Ohio and on his way to making his dreams come true. But Rachel had learned that older didn't necessarily mean wiser. It didn't mean he had changed. And it didn't change anything between them.

She lowered the drink and stood awkwardly for a moment, avoiding his eyes, before she quickly turned and stuffed the bottle back into her bag. "I should go. I'm meeting someone. And my dads worry when I don't call to let them know if I'm going to be late-"

"Finn."

Rachel stilled as his cool voice spoke up behind her, more of a statement than a question.

"It's him you're meeting, right?"

"So what if it is?" she replied, in a tone just as frosty as his.

Lofty derision filled his words, barely masking the resentment behind it. "So you're finally with Hudson now?"

Rachel stiffened, before turning around to face him defiantly. "Yes. Not that it's _any _business of yours."

A scowl touched his face before he quickly lifted it with a short, mocking laugh. "You guys are so predictable. McKinley Glee Club's '_golden couple'_. Hope it was worth all the pining."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at his audacity, her famous drama-queen temper flaring. Two hot glares burned across the room and clashed together in a shower of sparks. "Grow up, Jesse. What's it to you anyway? And just _where _do you get off acting like the wronged party in all this? Exactly how many girls do you have waiting for you back at UCLA?" She gestured pointedly in what she hoped was the right geographical direction. "I mean, what is this little visit meant to prove anyway? Stuck home on vacation so you figured you'd try to re-ignite some old flames to kill some time?"

She saw his jaw tighten and felt a twinge of satisfaction. "Because, rest assured, that flame was pretty well extinguished when you stomped on my heart the first time."

She let her words sink in dramatically for a moment, finding she needed to take a deep breath after her little outburst. Jesse had a soft frown on his face and she wondered what he was thinking. Rachel knew she wasn't the same girl she had been the last time he was in her life. A year was a long time. She had changed, become more self assured. Harder. _Like mother, like daughter_, Rachel thought with a fresh stab of bitterness.

Jesse shook his head to himself, the anger leaving his body. "It was always him, wasn't it?"

_Finn_.

Jesse may have been a manipulative jerk, but he wasn't blind. He knew they had a history and that the idiot had broken up with her just before he made his first move, which was fortunate for him. Not that Jesse had any doubts in his skills to have seduced her away regardless; it had just made his job easier. He had still considered it only a mild irritation when the jock had abruptly changed his mind and made blundery attempts to win her back. Then that stupid video happened. He had tried to convince himself it had only hurt his pride; but a simple wounded ego didn't take a week in San Diego and a drunken hook-up with an old Vocal Adrenaline fling to heal. Having his girlfriend still torn over her ex was a bigger complication.

He had known it was dangerous to go back to her, to get in even deeper, but he still had a promise to keep.

When he had seen her and Finn perform a soulful rendition of '_Faithfully_' at Regionals, it had felt like a slap in the face. He watched the looks that passed between them at every opportunity, the soft smiles and shy touches – and he had known then that his little act had been nothing but an interlude in the long-game, mediocre drama of '_Rachel and Finn'_.

And he felt cheated, somehow. He was the player – not the played. Jesse St. James wasn't used to playing second fiddle to anyone.

The critical, assessing side of his mind had taken pleasure in noting that their voices didn't meld and smoulder together the way theirs had. He had brought the best out of her singing, and that wasn't just arrogance. They were both fiercely ambitious and competitive, and he was the established champion. So she had worked extra hard when they sang together, constantly challenged herself to learn from his experience, and she had improved every time as they took turns to spur each other on.

Yet when he was singing with her, part of it had just felt so…effortless. Sometimes he'd simply let himself relax and enjoy the music they were creating; the evolving emotions of their duetting voices. It wasn't just pleasure in the technical either, for once. There was something else there, some extra magic to their songs, absorbing them both in a single moment. And for the first time, when he closed his eyes, he could imagine someone else sharing that Broadway stage with him.

Trapped in that theatre, he had stood and watched as she twirled herself into his arms, the girl he had had thrown aside only a few weeks ago; watched as Finn caught her just like he always did, matching smiles on their faces as they belted out their song. For a moment, Jesse had wished for nothing more than to stride onto stage and wrench her from his arms; a possessive jealously stirring up inside him that took him aback. Jesse wasn't jealous of any of his 'peers'. He didn't look back: he was always moving on, moving to the top. He never thought of the ones he passed on the way up and left behind. But he had cast her off and she had gone running back to Finn, and it hurt him much more than it had any right to.

At that moment, Jesse had wondered if Rachel Berry would be the one mistake he would always regret.

He remembered barging past Giselle in his bad mood, his fellow lead's indignant whisper behind him as he turned away into backstage. They were on next and he had to clear his head. New Directions had once accused Vocal Adrenaline of performing without any emotion. Looking back, maybe it was a good thing McKinley had gone first. Whatever the reason, Jesse had never sung quite like that in any performance before – anger, frustration and conflict burning in every note, infusing their whole performance to a new standard that saw them easily swipe the trophy for the fourth time, winning streak unbroken. Jesse's heart was another matter.

Rachel blinked, caught off guard. She looked like she didn't know what to say, and he took a moment to congratulate himself on pulling off the seemingly impossible feat.

Her expression quickly hardened. "Do you really care?"

At his silence, she shook her head, a calm finality in her tone. "You should go." With that she turned her back to him and returned to her things that were gathered on the piano stool. She had moved on and she was letting him know that.

Freeing her long hair of the tight bun, Rachel quickly pulled on the loose cotton trousers and slipped her feet out of her pumps and back into her school shoes, in a hurry to get out. Picking up her top, she tugged it over her head. She felt the warmth at her back for only a moment, before another set of hands brushed her sides, reaching for the edge of the jumper as she slipped it on. Smooth fingers followed the curve of her ribs as he slowly guided the garment down over her leotard. Rachel closed her eyes against her will, the physical memory taking on a life of its own.

_The touch of his hands as they traced her body, palms hot against her bare skin, skilfully coaxing her shirt over her head. Fingertips dancing across her navel in elegant patterns; feeling them burn into her flesh, wishing they would brand her forever. A warm mouth against her neck, whispers she badly wanted to trust…_

His hands came to settle on her waist and Rachel forced her eyes open, drawing in a shallow breath. She could almost feel his arrogant smirk behind her as a traitorous shiver ran through her body. This was most definitely a bad idea.

"Missed me?"

The soft, teasing words sent a forbidden thrill racing down her spine, but Rachel just scowled and arranged her features into a look of indifferent superiority. She turned around but didn't shove off his hold, finding herself face to face with him inside the strong circle of his arms. His hands shifted to lightly grip her hips in a familiar embrace of possession, even though he didn't have her now. Not her body and certainly not her love.

"What makes you think I've even thought twice about you since you left?" she said coldly, even as her body continued to betray her in his presence.

He smiled that smug, cocky grin that still made her stomach flip over. A disorientating exhilaration like the moment you began to tip over at the top of the rollercoaster.

"Because I know you. And you're only human after all."

She rolled her eyes. He_ so_ hadn't changed. She jerked back in surprise when she felt him raise a hand to her head. She looked up at him, guarded suspicion in her eyes, as he ran his fingers gently through her hair.

"You guys will kill at Regionals," he said quietly, a soft sincerity in his voice that took her aback.

She quickly regained her composure. "Of course we will," she replied confidently. "Vocal Adrenaline still has a fatal weakness. They never did have any _heart." _

He took the pointed dig and let it slide. It wasn't like he really had a leg to stand on to contradict her assessment. He had to accept her point of view. For now.

"Anyway," she went on curtly, abruptly disentangling herself from him. "You betrayed us. The club." She shook her head as she stepped away, voice hard and expression closed off. "What do you care if we win or not? We all know where your loyalty lies."

She held his stare as both digested the sharp words. Rachel didn't give an inch in the silent battle. He may have been the masked player in their relationship once, but Rachel had been forced to grow up a lot since she had learnt life lessons the hard way from him. She could act and protect herself with a multitude of façades now, that would make a showman like him proud.

"I – I have to go." Swiftly gathering up the last of her stuff, she skirted around him and made a break for the door.

Still struggling to close up her bag, she crossed the floor and reached for the handle, but found the door resisting. Glancing up she saw a hand pressed against the surface just above her head. Damn he was quick. Fuming, she turned around.

"Open the door," she demanded, shooting him a glare that could freeze water. Of course she could always force him on it but she'd rather stare him out.

"Fine."

Rachel blinked in surprise; she had been expecting a bigger fight. But Jesse didn't move, except to step closer, forcing her to press back against the door until she thought she might fall right through it. Her heart felt like it was on the brink of exploding it was beating so fast. Only an inch of air separated their bodies. Her gaze darted to his lips before meeting his dark eyes again, which were brewing with a dangerous tempest that threatened to swallow them both.

"Then tell me he's what you want. That you're as happy as you thought you ever would be."

_He never __humiliated__ me_, she wanted to hiss. But as she opened her mouth to retort, she suddenly reassessed the truth of such words. Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to meet his eyes again.

Jesse's voice lowered as he leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. Rachel stiffened, trapped between his arms and the door and desperately trying to suppress the surge of desire that fluttered in her abdomen at his close proximity.

"Tell me that he understands your dreams and wants to be a part of them." A smirk filled his voice as he whispered her own words back to her. "Your '_Broadway lover'_." His mouth trailed down the side of her neck to the crook of her shoulder and Rachel could feel every word against her skin as they fell from his lips. "That he makes you feel like I did."

Rachel felt a stab of indignation at his arrogant manipulation break through the molten heat coursing through her from his touch.

"You don't have the right to ask me that."

"No," he admitted slowly. "But maybe you should ask yourself."

His breath was hot against the side of her neck, sending chills up her spine. His body so close to hers that his warmth and smell were quickly becoming the only things she was aware of. He pulled back to look at her, bringing their faces together and locking her in his stare.

Rachel felt the shadow of her younger, naïve, dream-struck self rise up and take possession of her senses. The girl who knew nothing of ulterior motives, beautiful show faces, betrayal and scarring heartbreak. The girl who had only watched as he sang her a beautiful '_Hello_' at a music store piano, the first boy who'd possibly matched her in every way, and felt herself falling in love just a bit.

She didn't know when their mouths had met, when their bodies had melded together in a hot tangle; all she knew was that the firestorm that swirled up through every part of her was as terrifying as it was destructive. She was dimly aware of his hands: one at her waist, holding her against him so tightly she was sure she'd have bruises; the other at her neck as his thumb slowly traced her jaw. His teeth nipped her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to him completely, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened fiercely. Rachel tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping the dark locks almost painfully, and gasped softly as the last of the air was stolen from her lungs.

That breath of oxygen was just enough to bring her back to her senses. Her eyes snapped open and she broke the kiss so suddenly, it left them both reeling. She could feel his chest rising and falling against hers as they struggled to ground themselves once more. Her lips tingled and stung, body shaking with unnoticeable trembles in the aftermath of whatever insanity had just seized her. His eyes caught hers, a whirlwind of emotion passing through them, but she recognized that familiar smirk, edging back at the corner of his mouth.

Hastily, Rachel pushed herself free from his embrace. Running a self conscious hand through her hair, she took a deep breath and looked back to his face with a steely glare.

"Get out of my life, Jesse St. James. You're good at that."

His mouth crooked up in a playful smile. "And miss all your drama? Never." He held her gaze for a moment longer before he slowly removed his weight from the door and stepped away.

She didn't know if that was a tease or a promise. Slinging her ballet bag over her shoulder, Rachel quickly hurried out the door, refusing to contemplate the look in his eyes with that last word.

**~o~**

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**AN: **Okay, St. Berry has totally captured my shipper heart. It's a little scary how much I love them. I've watched the show from the start but this is the first time I've actively shipped a couple on it. I have to admit, I was hooked from the first moment Jesse appeared in '_Hell-O_'. It was just magic. I love his character (even if I hate some of the things he does) and I adore his relationship with Rachel. Their chemistry is just incredible, and is something I've not felt from any of the other character pairings. They are actually perfect for each other, with similar temperaments, interests and goals, and their singing is so beautiful and powerful together. Alas, I have a habit of falling head over heels for doomed couples, and writing fics is my only therapy. I really hope JGroff comes back next season.

This was meant to be a one-shot but I'm thinking about maybe extending it, as ideas for more scenes keep coming into my head. Let me know what you think?

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Whoa. I'm still a little in shock at the amazing responses to my little one-shot. Thanks so much for all the positive feedback, it makes me really happy to hear from everyone. Boy, talk about pressure. I debated back and forth about adding any more: I was really tempted to leave it on a high, rather than take the risk that the rest wouldn't come up to the same standard. I _so_ nearly didn't post, it was more than a little daunting! In a good way, of course. But, hey: a life lived in fear is a life half lived. Plus, my St. Berry addiction is just as hopeless as ever.

* * *

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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Rachel lay on her bed, hair splayed out on the pillows behind her and fingers absently twisting a soft wave into an anxious knot. She stared up at the scattering of plastic stars that decorated the ceiling above her, basking in the soothing and faintly greenish glow they emitted, and trying to gather her thoughts into something that vaguely resembled common sense.

She'd ended up cancelling on Finn last night. Of course, she'd blamed it on catching up with her school work and general fatigue after her extended ballet practice. She remembered the concern in his voice as he'd told her again to ease up on herself, that she didn't have to carry the whole glee club on her shoulders, and that Regionals weren't worth making herself sick over.

Rachel had bitten her tongue and managed to refrain from explaining _again _that she didn't do everything she did solely for the good of the glee club. That while she loved everything about their group and was more determined than any of them to get to Nationals, she also had her own dreams and ambitions, ones that stretched far beyond high school competitions, and that those dreams wouldn't come true if she didn't work her very hardest for them. This was actually about _her_; about investing in her future. Instead she silently reminded herself that for most of her fellow members, the club represented the peak of what they would achieve creatively and that they just couldn't see beyond it sometimes. So with a calming breath, she had put a smile back into her voice, assured him that she was fine and that she would see him at school in the morning.

Even as she spun her sweet platitudes, she could feel them choking her. She felt wretched and it wasn't fair. This wasn't her fault! But she knew that she just couldn't face seeing him. Not then. For once, she had shied away from a performance, all too aware that she lacked the will and focus to execute it effectively. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was still shaken from her unexpected encounter. Butterflies raged in her stomach and refused to settle. The taste of him was still on her lips, the touch of his hands on her body, his words in her ear, the darkening storm in his eyes... No, she wasn't nearly together enough to pull off acting like everything was fine.

Jesse hadn't won. She knew he was trying to shake the foundations of her relationship with Finn, make her question herself, to doubt everything – but she wouldn't. Rachel knew what she wanted. She'd wanted it so hard and so painfully for what felt like forever; to question it would be ridiculous. He just didn't want to see her happy. This was only another mind game to him.

'_Okay, well, guess I'll see you in school then. Love you, Rach. Night.'_

The words had caught in her throat and she could only manage a teary nod at the phone, too distracted to remember that he couldn't see her. Love. Not _loved_.

As it turned out, school hadn't brought the relief of the familiar that she'd expected. She'd been sure that by the next morning, real life would have resumed and she would just slip back into her normal day; the fluke of yesterday forgotten and the boy concerned just as irrelevant as he had been last week. But as she skipped up to meet Finn, all bright smiles and eager chatter, somehow it didn't feel quite as easy as it had done the day before.

They'd bumped into Kurt and Mercedes on their way to English, and Rachel had proceeded to talk so fast and so erratically over the whole conversation that both had given her several pointed looks that clearly indicated they thought she was acting even crazier than usual. Even Finn had given her a curious glance, before shrugging in awkward apology to their friends.

By the time last bell rang, Rachel's energetic façade was starting to wane. Walking hand-in-hand down the corridors towards the choir room, she merely nodded and smiled and let him do the talking for once. Feeling suddenly exhausted, she had leant her head on his arm and quietly winced at the guilt that was steadily burning a hole through her stomach, as she reluctantly thought again of what she'd done last night. No, what _he'd_ forced her into. It wasn't like she had initiated it.

Rachel bit her lip. Truthfully, she couldn't actually remember. Or maybe she simply didn't want to. He'd had her trapped; he was the one making all the moves. He'd kissed _her_.

But she'd kissed him back. That part she did remember perfectly. Rachel closed her eyes with a tight frown. That searing kiss was burned into her body with an unforgiving, shattering clarity: all heat and pressure and painful surges of fire, like being caught up in a collapsing sun. The memory still caused her heart to speed and her skin to flush.

Aggravated, she quickly pulled her thoughts back to safer, if gloomy, waters. She had managed to get through glee rehearsal and a movie date with Finn before eventually retreating to the safety of her bedroom, where the smile had finally broken and she could breathe deeply for the first time all day. Part of her wished she could have found the strength to stay in his comforting, familiar presence for a while longer, hidden and protected inside his embrace; but she had discovered that no matter how many times he kissed her, or put his arms around her or gently clasped her hand – it just couldn't erase the memory of _his_ touch. Surely, that wasn't how it was supposed to be? Rachel sighed loudly in frustration.

She was distracted from her miserable musings by the familiar beep and flash of her cell phone. Rolling onto her side, she stretched over and retrieved it from her bedside table, flipping open the sparkly cover carelessly. She froze at the sight of the name that flashed up alongside the message. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she stared in suspicion at her phone, as if it had betrayed her on purpose. She blinked as the one-word text suddenly sprang onto her screen. She was sure she'd pressed 'delete' not 'read'. She was _sure_.

_Lonely?_

Rachel could feel her stomach knot just as tightly as if he'd whispered the word in her ear. She mentally shook herself. Determinedly ignoring the physical response running through her, she narrowed her eyes at the teasing word.

_Leave me alone, Jesse._

There was a pause, during which it occurred to Rachel that the wisest response might have been none at all. She chewed her lip and was just about to click the lid back down, when her phone lit up again.

_Knew you'd never delete my number._

Typical that he could infuse even his texts with smugness. She glared at the silent words, a flurry of embarrassment making her grouchy.

_Don't you ever take a break from being insufferably obnoxious?_

The response was quick, and just as infuriating.

_Why would I? It's part of my irresistible charm._

She rolled her eyes; firmly pushing down the reluctant smile that was threatening to tug her lips up. Some things never changed.

_You're still an arrogant bastard._

Rachel knew better than to think she could get a rise out of him with her sharp words. Jesse was always the one in control, always confident in his role. He never broke character. The phone blinked back to life in her hands.

_So what does that make you?_

Rachel frowned as she re-read the text. Good question. Dropping her head back against the pillows, she gave a deep sigh.

_An idiot._

The screen flashed a few moments later to announce his reply.

_Ouch._

Her thumbs moved to immediately type out a curt retort, but the phone beeped again before she could finish, as his text interrupted hers.

_Meet me outside._

Rachel felt every muscle in her body tense painfully at the casual command; a sickening jolt crashing through her. Her nerves tingled with ice, her face hardening. She hesitated for a beat, before punching out the cold reply.

_Where have I heard that before?_

There was a long silence. Her fingers tightened around the dark screen, almost daring the words to come. The seconds stretched on, and she nearly jumped when the responding musical beep abruptly broke the quiet once more.

_Rachel, please._

She frowned at the deceptively simple text, unsure if the almost sincere tone she sensed beneath the words was just in her imagination. After a brief pause to assess her questionable mental state, she sat up and swung herself off the bed.

/o/

As she cautiously stepped out of her front door and into the dark night, she immediately saw him waiting for her. He'd been outside her house the whole time? She stared at him through the shadows before her gaze quickly swept over the street and parked cars; scanning for the tell-tale license plates of his friends.

Returning her attention to him, she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, leaning back against an unfamiliar black car. The impeccably shiny paint and stylishly smooth lines of the vehicle glinted under the patchy glow of the streetlights. He had upgraded since high school.

But there was no smile. No slow motion run to his arms like she had done the last time he had enticed her into a trap. Jesse St. James had succeeded in teaching her that love was not made of happy endings; it was only a rough road filled with betrayal, pain and humiliation. Crossing her arms in a gesture of unwelcome, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, words calm and cool.

"So, what do you want?"

He shrugged and gave a slight smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I want to show you something." When her expression remained sceptical, he smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Promise to behave myself."

He watched as she glowered at him in irritation and suspicion, but there was a light of curiosity growing in her eyes. His lips tilted up in a smug smile; knowing he was goading her but unable to help himself.

He knew she would come, and she knew he knew it. And that was nearly enough to stop her out of spite. Rachel's stubbornness battled with her reckless desire to follow him, despite every better judgement telling her to slam the door in his face.

Finally, she lifted her head a little higher and slowly crossed the small stretch of lawn; footsteps leaving soft indents in the damp grass like lines on a treasure map. She felt his acute gaze following her every movement and proudly resisted the urge to fidget: he'd always had a way of watching her that made her heart pound self-consciously. She didn't even look at him as she reached the curb and yanked open the car door, with a little too much force than perhaps was necessary, and climbed into the passenger seat. By the time she heard the driver's door opening next to her, she was already doubting the wiseness of her decision.

/o/

They rode in silence for a good fifteen minutes, Rachel staring resolutely out the side window at the passing streets, all quiet with the hour of night, as he drove them further into the city. Her hands twisted the seatbelt across her lap; she'd never coped that well with extended silence. Usually people complained they had to struggle to shut her up: she was always talking, bossing people around. Or, well, singing. Jesse seemed perfectly at ease with the uncomfortable quiet, but Rachel reminded herself that effortless acting was what he did best.

The close space between their bodies stretched out like a screaming void, but neither made any attempt to breach it.

Rachel looked up with a start as she felt him pull the car over to the side of the street. Confused, she quickly let herself out and joined him on the sidewalk in front of the old Royal Theatre. She hadn't even noticed that he had brought them to the west end of town, right into the heart of the city's art district. She stared up at the darkened building, elegant façade steeped in shadows but just as impressive as she remembered. With a nostalgic pang, she realised she hadn't come here in years. Not since the bigger, modern concert hall had opened in the other side of town. She turned to cast a frown at Jesse but he cut off her question.

"Come on."

Without another word of explanation, he walked on and disappeared into the side street next to the theatre. Rachel hesitated before with a frustrated sigh, she followed him into the darkness. She squinted and whispered his name loudly, before locating him at the stage door.

"Jesse, isn't this breaking and entering?" she hissed nervously at his back.

"No."

She narrowed her eyes at his averted body as he concentrated on the lock. "Really?" she said dryly, "Because it looks like a pretty textbook example to me."

"There's a fine line."

"And what's that?"

He smiled to himself as the lock turned under his hands and he proceeded to push the door open in one smooth movement. Stepping over the threshold, he turned back to meet her panicked face with a smug smile.

"When the alarm doesn't go off."

With that, he turned and vanished into the building, leaving Rachel to cast a worried look about the street before cautiously hurrying in after him.

It was pitch dark inside. Silently cursing him, she fumbled blindly for the walls as she felt her way along, before abruptly letting out a hushed cry as she cracked her shin into a low table. She staggered but quickly felt a hand at her elbow, steadying her. Glancing up, she could just make out the shadowed lines of his profile, before he gently let her go and moved ahead again.

She heard a faint '_click_' and slowly the dingy backstage lighting flickered on around them. It wasn't much, but it was enough to see by. Rachel looked up from nursing her bruised knee just in time to see Jesse watching her with an amused smile before he turned away and she lost sight of him amongst the scenery clutter.

Gingerly straightening up, Rachel picked her way carefully through the props and rails of costumes, until she stepped out from the wings and found herself on the open stage.

Her eyes widened as they took in the majestic space that flowed out from the edge of the raised platform, familiarity flooding back to her. It had been a while, but she still recognised those faded red aisles, gold studded seats and sweeping balconies. Her dads had taken her here so many times when she was a child.

The theatre was even more spectacular from this side of the orchestra pit. Rachel stepped up to the front of the stage and craned her neck in awe as she looked up to the ornate ceiling high above her, still partly obscured by lingering shadows. It was breathtaking, standing there, in the centre of it all. The stage was huge and imposing, but so familiar in a way that seemed to welcome her home. Her gaze swept out over the stalls that seemed to stretch on forever, before disappearing into the grandly decorated curves of the dress and upper circles that rose up all around.

A bright spotlight suddenly burst into life, illuminating the stage and plunging the rest of the theatre into deep shadow. Rachel stepped back in surprise, raising a hand to shield her eyes and squinting in the fierce light. The stage lit up in a golden glow, like a shining bubble containing a separate world. At least, that was what she had thought it was as a kid: that when the lights dimmed, a window opened into another world, one that would vanish again the moment the house lights came back up. A bubble that existed out of time; that could never be touched, only experienced.

"Just me."

She jerked to look over her shoulder at the amused voice and saw Jesse watching her from the wings. Rachel shot him a glare before turning away; gesturing out at the empty theatre they were standing in. "How can you do all this?" she asked slowly. She couldn't help it. She was curious.

He shrugged and stepped out to join her on the stage, glancing around the impressive structure that surrounded them, a fond smile in his eyes. "Vocal Adrenaline used to rent this area out sometimes between their shows. It was good to be able to practise in a professional space with proper acoustics."

Rachel nodded, still staring out into the darkness. "Must have been nice to have that kind of opportunity," she said, only a hint of bitterness in the wistful words.

Jesse acknowledged the response silently as he walked up to her slowly. She tensed but didn't turn around. "Yeah, they were pretty good to us. I still know a guy who works here."

Rachel's brow crinkled at his words. _He must have arranged this all this afternoon_, she realised suddenly. She wasn't sure what to think. She could never be sure with Jesse. She blinked around at the darkened lines of seats that rose up in front of her, all quiet with a respectful hush: watching their window, watching their world.

She could feel him standing just behind her, so close but not touching. With a deep breath, she turned her head and caught his eyes, déjà vu attacking her insides again in a painful swell.

Another spotlight shining down on her, another stage: making her the centre of his own play, his unwitting partner in a heartbreaking charade. He held her eyes, and she could see the memory crossing his gaze too. An extended hand and a new introduction. A fateful kiss. A broken promise.

'_I want to introduce you to Jesse. The guy who would never hurt you.'_

Rachel swallowed thickly. A character name and nothing more: a contrived distinction that had never meant anything to anyone but her. He'd never been hers_._ Not for one moment. Not Jesse. Not Jesse St. James. Each one had only been a mask of manipulation played to perfection.

'_I know who you are._'

But she didn't. She had never really known him. Their entire story had played out on a stage; a work of skilled fantasy and honest lies. And she hated him for that. That he could use the medium and art she loved so much, to break her so carelessly, when Rachel had always seen the stage as a place for truth without fear.

And here they were again: taking their places for the final act and curtain fall…or another beginning. Another introduction.

Rachel drew in a breath and broke their gaze. She stared off into the waiting darkness and used it to mask the tremor in her voice. "Why did you bring me here?"

She didn't need to look behind her to know he was smiling. Her skin prickled sharply as he bent his head, voice low against her ear. "The stage is yours, Miss Berry."

With that, she felt him step away, leaving her alone in the middle of the floor; his warmth replaced by the shine of the spotlights that bathed her. Rachel blinked, struggling to uncover his motivations. The greater game in his actions. But as she stood there, staring out at her invisible audience, a familiar smile of determination spread across her lips. Rachel was a star. Give her a stage and she would shine.

Jesse stepped to the side, out of her line of sight, and watched her straighten up a little taller as she stepped forward to claim her rightful place. Her profile proud and confident, the bright lights glittering through her sleek, dark hair as it cascaded over her shoulders. He settled back against the old piano and waited for her to work it out for herself through song; such was their lives.

Rachel frowned as she thought. She had a staggering collection of songs stored in her head, from indie to Broadway – yet none of them fitted. This moment had caught her unprepared, and Rachel was _never _unprepared. A song for every occasion and a speech to go with it: that was her philosophy. She looked out into the spotlight and suddenly thought of the little girl who had once sat out there, somewhere in that anonymous darkness, watching as someone else sang their heart out for all to hear. Sitting between her dads: head in the clouds and heart in music and spellbound by the magic of theatre. Back when her one-track ambition and focus had been endearing and admirable, instead of hated and mocked. Back before life had taught her better. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Jesse smiled sadly as he heard those first words break the stillness of the dark, waiting theatre. Her voice ebbed and flowed in gentle currents, and a shiver ran through his chest at the power and pain within it. It still wasn't perfect but it was undeniably emotive. Her voice had matured since the last time he had heard it, giving it new depth. As he listened, he could see the hardness in her retreating in the tides of emotion she pulled through her voice with each breath, slowly revealing the girl inside: the child she once was, the girl he had known and cast aside, and the young woman she was becoming. It was captivating…and heartbreaking. Judy. He should have guessed.

_Somewhere over the rainbow_  
_ Skies are blue_  
_ And the dreams that you dare to dream_  
_ Really do come true_

Her voice echoed all around the empty stage, up into the gods and down into the depths of her soul. She sang slow and deep, soft and bitter. Wishful words of innocence and hope, tinged with the sad pain and experience of a life that was still so young.

She turned her head in surprise as she heard a soft, wordless melody join her on her next breath. The gentle music met her voice in a perfect rhythm but Jesse didn't look up from his hands as they picked out familiar patterns along the piano. Rachel expected him to join in, like they had always done before in their duets: complimenting and competing together for the spotlight.

But he didn't. This was her song, her story, her stage – and he didn't even try to share it. And that single act of professional generosity, of intimate understanding, from one who she knew craved the centre stage as much as she did, meant more to Rachel than she would ever admit. It was something the Jesse she had known would have struggled with: to be only her accompaniment.

She smiled tentatively at his lowered head, unseen, before turning back and finishing the song. As the final notes died away and got absorbed into the darkness, she stared out at her empty audience and convinced herself the glare of the spotlights was the reason behind the stinging in her eyes. She refused to raise her hand to her face, to let him know, and she quickly blinked them clear. Silence fell upon the stage, upon the two still players. Rachel stood in her lonely spotlight. Jesse watched her, his expression unreadable.

Slowly, a new arrangement of notes rose up behind her in soft waves as his skilled hands moved across the keys once more. She had forgotten how beautifully he played. A frown touched her face for a moment as the first few notes fell into recognizable order. She raised her head as his voice filled the air.

_I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?_

Her breath caught in her chest at the familiar lyrics, sung by a voice she hadn't heard in so long. It reached out to effortlessly consume the huge space, surrounding them both in a secret embrace of forbidden words. She could feel the smooth timbre of his voice as it passed over her skin, stirring up shivers in its wake. This _really _wasn't playing fair.

She turned around and their eyes met across the stage, but the song didn't stop. Their song would never stop. Rachel watched as he finished the chorus, unconsciously taking a deep breath as she took over the verse, following the steps to a dance they had done so many times before.

_Baby I've been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you._

His voice rejoined hers in a seamless arrangement, as if they had been singing together all their lives; an intuition that should only come from knowing each other by heart.

_I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

Rachel couldn't bring herself to look away even as the words cut through her chest, driven deeper by the touch of his voice alongside hers. Falling back from the song for a moment, she only breathed and listened as his music spun an intoxicating web through the air, drawing her in and enclosing around them.

_There was a time you let me know  
What's really going on below  
But now you never show it to me, do you?_

Rachel felt a piercing chill run down her neck, twisting through her whole body until it settled into a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. Fluid and powerful and almost as hot as his touch, it took her breath away all over again. A voice that could corrupt angels; she smiled bitterly. Closing her eyes, she slowly lifted her own voice to his once more, as the song grew between them.

_And remember when I moved with you  
The holy dove was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah_

Rachel stepped closer until she was standing at the piano, hands resting tentatively on the folded lid. He looked up: their eyes locking as their voices matched and moved together with an ease and beauty she had nearly let herself forget. And for a second she was standing in that music store all over again, nervous and wide-eyed and captured in his serenade. But she wasn't that girl anymore, and their songs would never be that innocent again. Time had changed them both and their voices reflected that. She searched his face with a soft frown as she recognised a depth that she hadn't heard since Regionals; something dark and pained under the polished pitch and soulful notes.

The piano softened next to her and Rachel braced herself as she took over the poignant verse in a mesmerizing solo.

_Maybe there's a God above  
But all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you_

She heard his voice from beside her as they sang the remaining words together. It was perhaps one of the most difficult yet easiest performances she had ever done. There were no awkward stutters or overlaps as their distinct melodies came together again in soaring harmony. _Far, far too easy_, Rachel thought. This was a dangerous road to take. It shouldn't be this natural. It shouldn't sound so right. It shouldn't feel so…

_And it's not a cry you can hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_

Their voices rose together in a hauntingly beautiful duet inside the dark theatre. The only place they truly felt at home; the only place they were free to be honest. Their lives would always be told amongst the shine of bright spotlights and the drama of theatricality. They were both destined for the stage, Rachel knew that. Not each other.

She tried not to flinch at the exposed emotions that passed so openly between them in each borrowed word. Protected in the bittersweet blessing of music; clinging to the fragile veil of safety their singing voices gave them that spoken words couldn't. Jesse held her eyes through the chorus and she could feel every note as it vibrated through her body. She felt the painful ache burn stronger in the pit of her stomach, and she wondered again how such a gorgeous voice could hide such a selfish heart.

The chorus finished but the song wasn't over. Rachel was quiet as she watched the final verse fall from his lips.

_I did my best, it wasn't much  
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch  
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you_

_And even though  
It all went wrong  
I'll stand before the Lord of Song  
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah_

Rachel swallowed back the stinging in her throat and looked down. The soft music of the piano filled the breathing space they both needed, until with a last exchanged look, their voices met again in the final chorus of their broken song.

The single word echoed around the walls, reaching into the shadows and trembling through the walls. Swelling out to embrace everything; becoming part of something so much bigger than them yet remaining so intimate. It was the rare kind of magic that formed legendary partnerships and inevitably tragic romances. You couldn't live so close to such a fire and not get burned.

The song ended, their voices merging together in harmony as the final note drew out and faded. Rachel stood perfectly still, willing herself to linger a moment longer in the spell they had just weaved, the sweet lies within their captured world, before the lights came up and shattered their window once more.

His eyes wouldn't let her go and she could feel nothing but the rhythm of his breathing, so close, pounding in sync with hers. Rachel had a feeling that if the walls were thundering with applause from their imaginary audience, it would still be all she could hear.

A soft smirk spread across his lips. "Not bad."

'_Hi. I'm Jesse.'_

'_I know who you are.'_

**~o~**_  
_

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**AN: **So, I actually chose '_Over the Rainbow_' before I knew it would feature in "Journey", but I didn't want to change it. And I know that '_Hallelujah_' has been used before with these two, but I don't care. It was just too perfect for this scene and they sang it so beautifully in my head. I thought the finale episode definitely had its moments, but as a whole, it left me kind of cold. The lack of Jesse/Rachel interaction made me sad. The Shelby/Rachel scene made me sad and angry. Rachel/Finn felt rushed and a bit anti-climatic. Oh well, at least the lack of resolution gives plenty of ammunition for St. Berry angst. I was also happily surprised to see my prediction for the results came true; makes it easier for me to pretend this story is actually part of canon!

As always, let me know what you think? Oh, and obviously I don't own Glee, '_Over the Rainbow'_ or '_Hallelujah_'. Sadly. Please take this disclaimer as standard.

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for all your reviews, these updates would not be getting managed without them! :) Though, I am going to have to check back in with my other stories at some point! Oh well, it depends which way the muse blows.

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**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Rachel's foot knocked softly against the table leg in an anxious rhythm, her fingers clenching a little harder into the edge of the bench she was perched on. The instructions from that day's lesson were still scrawled across the whiteboard and she must have read those experiment steps and chemical formulas about two dozen times already; she would probably be reciting them in her sleep. Still, she consoled herself: it would pay off dividends if it popped up in the exam. Every few minutes, her gaze darted to the door that stood ajar at the other side of the teacher's desk, and each time the frown between her brows would deepen. He was doing this on purpose. He _knew_ how tense she got when she was left hanging, forced to wait.

It was beyond infuriating that he could still play her emotional quirks so well. That with a subtle gesture or perfected reaction, he could manipulate her moods like strings on a violin.

With a conscious breath, Rachel relaxed her hands and straightened up, letting her hair fall back over her shoulder. He may still be able to provoke her, but there was no way she was letting him see that. If he thought he had the upper hand, then she was determined to prove him wrong. After all, she was under no illusions this time; she knew his tricks and she was prepared. Rachel switched her gaze to the periodic table on the wall beside her and began memorizing the rows upon rows of elements, repeating them over in her head like a soothing mantra.

He hadn't replied to her text, but she knew he would come. Okay, it had been more a demand than a request but he should be used to that by now. Her fingers drummed quietly on the underside of the table. The fumy smell of Bunsen burners still hung in the air, along with the sharp tang of sulphuric acid and other noxious chemicals. It was slightly headachy, but it was familiar. The long worktops and uncomfortable stools; the curled edges of the old posters on the walls; the stale odours of experiments going right and wrong; singed textbooks and undertones of rubber pencil erasers; even Mr Bryson's messy handwriting on the whiteboard was comforting.

Carmel had been his turf; the theatre had been common ground; but McKinley was _her _territory.

Rachel looked out at the darkening evening sky beyond the window behind her, a sigh of nervous frustration on her lips. She was impatient to get this over with.

/o/

_"Rachel, can I see you for a moment?"_

_Surprised, she glanced up through the bustle of her fellow members as Mr Schue called her name. Exchanging a look with Finn, she let go of his hand with smile of assurance and watched as he quickly caught up to Matt on the way out the choir room. Wearily gathering up her bag, she reluctantly turned and followed their teacher into his office. She knew her performance had been rather lacklustre today, but that was only by her standards. She truly hadn't expected anyone else to pick up on it, let alone give her a lecture about it._

_"Is everything okay?" Mr Schue asked as soon as he'd closed the door after them, gesturing for her to sit in the chair opposite his desk._

_"Of course." She smiled a bit too brightly, folding her hands across her lap. "What makes you say that?"_

_He sat on the edge of his desk, a gentle frown on his face as he studied the student before him. "You just seemed rather…subdued during rehearsal. Distracted." When Rachel said nothing, he pressed on. "Has something happened? Are things okay with Finn?"_

_She winced inwardly, something painful twisting in her gut. She could hear the worry in his voice, and she tried to curb her resentment at the implication. Of course, that would be the last thing he would want: some fresh scandal rocking the club's power couple with Regionals coming up. She supposed she could kind of understand it and she did feel a little sorry for their teacher; he did have to put up with a _lot_ of teenage melodrama. Still, the club had managed to withstand it all. So far._

_"No, nothing like that. Things are great with Finn." She stomped down the flutter of guilt and shrugged. "Guess I'm just a little tired. I had a late night." It wasn't strictly a lie._

_He nodded thoughtfully, a shrewd concern in his eyes that made Rachel uncomfortable. He sighed. "Look, I know that with it being this time of year again – well, it might be bringing up some bad memories." His gaze was sympathetic now, and in a way, that was much worse. She looked down and tried to settle the churning in her stomach. "No one would blame you for feeling out of sorts."_

_Her lips twitched in a nervous smile before she firmly pressed them together. The ghosts of the past were far closer and far more real than any of them knew._

_Taking a breath, she quickly composed her features and raised her head. "I appreciate the concern, Mr Schue, but you should know that I put all that behind me months ago." Her body was tight with the tension she had banished from her voice, but her smile was faultless. It was her leader smile: the one that inspired confidence and told everyone she was in control. A perfect show face: one that would have made her mother proud. "I'm fine, really."_

_"Good, I'm glad." He gave a tired smile. "I know things are tough just now with the stress and pressure of Regionals, and I know how much it means and how hard everyone is working, but whatever happens, I don't want you guys to ever lose sight of what really matters. We gave this club a fighting chance and made some great memories along the way, and if we do go out – we'll go out with a bang. Life is about the journeys not the destination." She nodded at him and shared a mutual grin over the cheesiness of the nostalgic speech. Rachel half expected them to burst into song right there in the middle of the office. She watched as his expression sobered. "You've always been strong, Rachel. Jesse and Vocal Adrenaline could never take that from you."_

_She nearly flinched at the sound of his name, heart tripping over in her chest as if she had been caught out in a lie of betrayal. Her smile faltered but didn't slip. Mr Schue was right. The others looked up to her, whether they wanted to admit it or not, and she was the one who would lead them into battle. She was the heart of Glee club and she couldn't afford to be careless with her own anym__ore. She had a responsibility._

_'Being a part of something special, makes you special.'_

_Glee club mattered. Regionals mattered. Finn mattered. The life she had worked so hard to build for herself. Was she really going to risk letting it get pulled down around her like a house of cards, all over again?_

_She stood up so quickly that Will jerked back into his desk with surprise. Her eyes were bright with a familiar determination; her smile confident and dazzling._

_"We're going to win Regionals, Mr Schue. Just wait and see."_

_The words rang out with a steadfast certainty that only Rachel Berry could guarantee; one that dared the world to contradict her._

/o/

She had just got to _Tellurium_ for the second time, when a familiar voice broke her concentration.

"Chemistry, huh?"

Her head snapped around to the source of the interruption. Jesse stood just inside the door, taking in the room with a leisurely sweep of his gaze before finally meeting her eyes, private amusement curving his lips.

"Interesting choice."

"It was the first classroom I found that was still unlocked," she replied breezily, though her stare was hard and defiant against his nonchalant smile. Rachel hopped down off the bench and adjusted her skirt absently, avoiding looking at him as she steeled her resolve, set her expression and ran through her speech one last time.

His eyes were dark and unwavering as they watched her from across the room; arms folded and body slouched against the wall in a perfect impression of casual indifference as he waited for her to explain her summoning.

Rachel faced him back with an effigy just as controlled.

"Look," she began slowly. "Whatever this warped, new game is supposed to accomplish – it stops here. I'm not playing. I don't care what you do with your vacation, but it's not going to include me."

Her words were met with a penetrating silence. Jesse raised his eyebrows a barely perceptible inch, something subtle changing in his gaze that sent a fleeting shudder of unease prickling down her neck.

Rachel drew herself up taller, tone firm and words crystal clear. "You and me were over a long time ago, not that there was much there to lose in the first place," she added bitterly. "We don't live in each other's worlds anymore. You made your choice, now I'm making mine. I need to concentrate on winning Regionals; this is an important year for the Glee Club and they need me if we're to have any chance of pulling through."

Team loyalty: above everything else. Whatever it took to win. Another lesson he had left her with, one that she'd never been able to forget.

She lifted her chin. "This is my_ life_, Jesse, and I won't let you touch it. You did enough damage the first time." She held his stare stubbornly. "I'm with Finn now and that's never going to change."

Her words expanded out into the classroom; filling the space so heavily that they almost became an external pressure, making it hard to breathe. A battle line drawn up between them and an atmosphere that was so strained it seemed to drain the air from the room. Neither moved: as if any small action, any sign of acknowledgement, would shatter the brittle tension into a thousand fatal pieces that would break them both. This was goodbye.

Finally, with a last look, Rachel stiffly turned away and pulled her bag up from the bench behind her. She'd said everything she'd come to say. There was no going back for them. Too much had changed and yet not enough. Some wounds would never heal and some fires may never die, but Rachel had a feeling her world would be a lot more balanced when several thousand miles separated them again. She slung her bag over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the dark window at the back of the room. The girl in the window hesitated for a moment, before straightening her shoulders with forced determination. She would walk out of his life this time.

"You never did answer my question."

Rachel tensed at his voice; she didn't miss the silent dare in the casual words. She turned around and met his intense gaze with narrowed eyes. Fine, if that was how he wanted to play it.

"_Yes_. Okay? I'm perfectly happy. This – _him_ – is what I want. What I _always _wanted," she added spitefully, twisting his words back at him to attack the old insecurity. She felt a surge of bitter satisfaction as she saw a dark anger flash across his face: proud that she had managed to crack that perfect control, even if it was only for a moment. That she could hurt him too; make him feel some small measure of what she'd suffered at his hands.

Rachel fought the urge to groan as she realised that once again, he was between her and the door. He hadn't moved from his stance since he had come in. She really should have picked somewhere with an alternate escape route. Pushing the useless thoughts to the back of her mind, she gritted her teeth and marched forward down the row of benches, stride quick and direct, refusing to glance his way.

Again, he was faster than her.

Strong hands enclosed around her waist as quick as lightening; sharply spinning her away from the door. Rachel sucked in a breath and winced slightly as the back of her thighs hit the edge of Mr Bryson's desk. She felt his hold tighten around her firmly, pinning them there. His breath fanned across her skin as he brushed his lips against her ear, a single whisper raking through her body like an electric storm.

_"Liar."_

Her heart was hammering painfully loud, drowning out the scathing retort that formed in her mind. His hands found their way to her wrists and gently pressed them down against the desk. They were closer than pages in a book and she could feel every breath trembling through his lungs. Rachel bit into her lip as a dangerous wave of heat soared through her, helpless to stop it; the burning touch of his body against hers driving nearly every last shred of sanity from her thoughts.

His mouth moved to the curve of her neck, lips barely grazing her skin in a ghost of a kiss. Her heart panicked violently in her chest, a sweeping shiver racing through her body, igniting everything in its path. Her fingers curled around his against the desk, willing him closer, even as her mind tossed and turned in confusion, plagued by memories that wouldn't fade.

She swallowed hard and buried her face into his shoulder, a pained frown on her face that he couldn't see. "I don't understand…why you're doing this."

The familiar words warmed and chilled Jesse at the same time. She sounded almost as naïve as she had been the first day she had spoken them; still so trusting and hopeful, still unbroken by him. He raised his head to meet her eyes, and he could see the strong resolve warring with conflicted desire, deep inside her shining gaze.

Tension rippled through them both like a static charge waiting to jump. His mouth skimmed over hers, so close that Rachel could feel the words against her lips as he breathed them.

"Yes, you do."

The low whisper had barely registered in her mind, when his mouth captured hers in a blazing spark of electricity, and common sense abandoned her completely. His hands released hers and moulded themselves against her body, slipping around her waist and pulling them flush together, fingers pressing into the small of her back. The pounding ache in her stomach flared painfully as it spread out to consume her whole being, racing through her veins like a wild fire unleashed. Memories collided and converged into the shattering sensation of his kiss. The pressure increased and her lips parted to let him claim her mouth, drinking her in like he wanted to memorize her taste forever. Rachel moaned softly, her warm body humming against his in gentle vibrations as she twined her hands around his neck.

This time, when she broke for air, he didn't give her the chance to change her mind; pulling her back to him almost instantaneously, rough with a barely contained urgency that she quickly returned. Her fingers dug into the nape of his neck, her mouth just as demanding against his; previous resolve and harsh words melting in the wake of bursting fire.

Time had broken around them, and when they finally pulled back to catch their breath, Rachel didn't know if seconds or hours had passed. She clenched her hands tighter into his jacket, eyes slipping shut again as she felt his fingers at the curve of her waist, thumbs slowly stroking her sides. He pressed his forehead into hers and her body trembled in a deep exhale. Even with her eyes closed, there was no mistaking whose embrace she was trapped in. The gentle but possessive pressure of his hold, the teasing heat of his touch, the subtle demand of his body still pressing into hers: they were explicit sensations that she remembered all too well. She knew just how dangerous they were.

Jesse St. James. The boy who had manipulated her love so expertly then dropped her without a second thought. The boy who had humiliated her and broken her heart. The boy who wasn't _Finn_.

Rachel slowly opened her eyes and found his. Her mind urged her to walk away, to escape the black hole they were falling into. But when she finally spoke, the words that came didn't spring from any rational part of her.

"No one can know," she told him on a shaky breath. Her gaze burned into his, making sure he knew that this condition was non-negotiable and unbreakable. Rachel knew from experience she could handle a broken heart, but she couldn't let him break her whole life.

A smirk tugged Jesse's lips. She was almost clinging to him, as if he were the only solid thing left in the world and she might get sucked away into the void of space if she let go. And she was laying down _rules_? A shimmer of amusement crossed his gaze as he looked down at the girl in his arms, the whole encounter playing out like a stolen scene in an unfinished play.

Slowly, his hand trailed up her side until it reached her face, thumb skimming her cheek in a light caress, before tangling in that gorgeous long hair.

"I understand."

He never released her eyes, the smile still ghosting at the edge of his lips; the familiar exchange prompting their dialogue. He pulled her closer and Rachel gratefully rested her head on his shoulder, exhaustion suddenly wracking her body. She breathed him in, the warm scent of his clothes and skin mixing with the faintly metallic aromas of the chemistry lab. She felt the light touch of his hand in her hair and closed her eyes; as if she were slipping into a dream, with no idea of what she would wake up to.

**~o~**

* * *

**AN**: You have no idea how hard it was to actually get this written. I've been so shattered. Stupid work; killing my will to live and energy to write. *sigh*

Anyway, let me know what you think? I suppose I could leave it here... ;)

Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

I know that some people don't like the idea of Rachel cheating and think that I'm dragging her very out of character. If that is the case, I would advise not to read on. I will do my best to stay true to Rachel's matured character as I perceive it and to portray the motivations behind their decisions and actions. I will say though, that a challenge of fanfiction is to push characters beyond their predictable comfort zones, into uncomfortable situations and to find a way to make it work.

* * *

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

"Now, dehydration synthesis is an anabolic process by which two molecules are chemically bonded through the use of enzymes and a loss of water. For example…"

Mr Harris's voice registered only as a dull drone in the back of Rachel's mind. She stared down at the open textbook that lay on her desk and tried to force her hand to copy down his words without them actually passing through her conscious thoughts. Lifting her head, she snuck another glance at the clock and quietly despaired at the temporal anomaly that was currently swallowing her time. Where had the period gone? Where had the day gone, for that matter? The sharp needles jerked around the notches in a persistent march, ignorant to her silent glare.

Returning to her notebook, Rachel briefly debated blowing off the impending Glee rehearsal. Really, she just wanted to go home and sleep. She was shattered. Her emotions had been on razor wire all day, grating against her nerves until they almost bled. She could barely think straight anymore – as if the insanity that had set in last night had warped her entire reality into two fragmented mirrors. In one, her life carried on as normal. One in which she'd settled into her boyfriend's embrace like it was the most natural thing in the world as they walked through the corridors that morning. One where her smile was bright and genuine, the familiar touch of his lips welcome and sweet as they parted ways at her next class. Where she smiled at his photo inside her locker as she collected her books; where she dodged slushies with varying degrees of success; where they sat with their friends at lunch and gossiped about class, Miss Sylvester's latest feud, exchanged song ideas and plans for the weekend. Where she was Rachel Berry: Glee Club's top drama queen and Finn Hudson's high maintenance girlfriend. Where her world made sense and everything was as it should be.

In the other, everything was out of control. One where her stomach clenched in nauseous knots as she passed a simple chemistry classroom, before she quickly wrapped herself tighter in Finn's embrace. Where her lips still stung and her body still burned from a memory that was far too vivid to have been a dream. Where she cast nervous glances over her shoulder, convinced people were whispering his name. Where she felt like she was walking on a high wire, the sharp metal cutting into the soles of her bare feet, a taught balance that would snap at any moment. Traitorous whispers stealing through her mind; a simmering, destructive secret that gnawed at her insides.

When had this happened? When had she become the girl who could look her boyfriend in the eyes and smile, knowing she was betraying him? Rachel stared at the pen in her hand as it continued to draw neat loops and strokes across the page in familiar patterns that made no sense. She remembered when she'd first seen him this morning: he'd been waiting by the doors at their usual spot, rucksack slung idly over one shoulder, talking away to one of the less obnoxious members of the football team. She'd hesitated, not really wanting to interrupt. After all, she tended to try and avoid his teammates as a rule, seeing as she was still a prime humiliation target for the majority of them. She knew how Finn still struggled sometimes to comfortably accommodate her and Glee with his sports commitments. But then he'd caught sight of her and that same shy, quiet smile had felt like a vicious punch to Rachel, knocking her breathless. Throat painfully raw, she had wanted for one desperate moment to blurt it all out, to be free from the crushing guilt and confusion and plead for him to understand.

But she just couldn't bring herself to. Rachel would never beg anyone for anything. This had been her choice and she was just going to have to find a way to deal; find a way to keep her life together, to keep the things that mattered from being dragged under and lost to this mess. Maybe she couldn't save herself from her worst weakness, inevitably it would leave her with fresh scars to regret, she knew that – but she wouldn't let it hurt anyone else. She would be strong where it counted.

The pen trembled and she quickly pressed her lips together, as if her very breath would somehow give her away. The pressure of keeping up an easy façade, of putting on a flawless act, was intense. A humourless smile crossed her lips: she didn't know how Jesse could stand it. But things had changed. Maybe she was still a fool, but she was a fool with eyes wide open this time; and she would match him lie for lie if she had to.

Lifting a hand to her mouth, she stifled a stretching yawn. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out.

"Rachel, are we keeping you up?"

She heard an outbreak of sniggers behind her. Straightening her shoulders with dignity, she flashed her teacher a suitable abashed smile. "No, I'm sorry."

Mr Harris sniffed in disapproval and pushed his glasses further up his nose before returning to the wonders of macromolecules. Rachel sat up in her seat and struck the practised pose of an attentive student. No mean feat considering just how tired she really was. She had barely slept the night before; her overactive mind spinning so fast with turmoil that she jerked awake every few hours from a restless doze, only to rehash the whole debacle with a fresh resolve that too quickly crumbled before breaking all over again. She'd already stepped in too deep with Jesse to pull back completely, last night had proved that. It was just about damage control now.

She'd felt like screaming into her pillow in frustration. This wasn't meant to happen. This was not part of Rachel Berry's plan. This was her life, and Jesse had _not _been granted a recurring role in it. She had thought this was by mutual agreement. Apparently, she'd thought wrong.

But she would never be his again. That part of her life had been firmly and rightfully cast already. Rachel gave a mental grimace as the silent debate continued to rage. But Finn deserved better than this. If she had any decency left, any trace of the girl she had always claimed to be, she would tell him. She would let him go rather than risk his hurt, but she knew she couldn't. It wasn't as if Finn hadn't made stupid, weak mistakes himself. She was just more self aware. It didn't mean she liked it. It didn't mean she didn't wish she could stop.

Finn was her boyfriend, the one she would go home to, the one she belonged with. That was the way the story was meant to be; the ending everyone expected; the future she had worked so hard to make happen. He was still what mattered. She couldn't lose him. Rachel felt her stomach turn over sickeningly at the thought.

She just couldn't.

Refocusing her attention on the board, she saw that Mr Harris was laying out the homework for next week and a fresh wave of unease skittered through her mind. The thought of bolting out the school the moment the bell rang was ridiculously tempting. The rebellious inkling was quickly squashed though; Rachel had responsibilities that she wouldn't abandon, no matter how tangled her personal life got. Besides, several of her fellow members were in this very class, sitting just a few rows away, and Rachel _never _missed practice. If she were to suddenly bail, it would look suspicious.

No, skipping rehearsal just wasn't an option.

So when the bell finally went a few minutes later, she dutifully packed away her stuff and stood up to meet her teammates with a practised smile of eager anticipation; ready to face anything life threw at her.

Together they weaved through the crush of escaping students towards the choir room, Tina and Mercedes flanking her on either side as the conversation quickly turned from homework assignments to boyfriend gossip. Apparently Artie had invited Tina over to have dinner on Friday night and meet his mom, and she was freaking out about it.

"It's just I've never had to meet a boyfriend's parents before. What am I supposed to talk about all evening? What am I meant to _wear_? I mean, what if his mom doesn't want her son dating a girl with a slight obsession with death? But I don't have anything else! I suppose I could go shopping-"

"Don't you dare, girl," Mercedes cut in, putting a halt to Tina's anxious ramble. "You wouldn't change for Artie, so there's no way you should even consider hiding who you are for his folks. If they got a problem, it's _their _problem – not yours. Just go in confident."

"That's easy for you to say," she mumbled before perking up in curiosity. "Have you met Patrick's parents yet?"

"Hell no!" Mercedes laughed loudly. "We've only been dating for a month! But I got nothing to worry about. Parents love me."

Tina looked downcast again and Rachel cast a sympathetic look at the girl beside her, looping her arm through hers in solidarity. The three girls proceeded to contemplate the conversational dos and don'ts of that type of situation for the rest of the trip to rehearsal.

When they walked into the choir room, most of the group was already assembled but Mr Schue hadn't yet arrived and the chatter was boisterous with a familiar energy. Rachel slipped into her usual seat beside Finn, a potent combination of relief and guilt wrenching in her gut as his hand automatically found hers. She squeezed it back with a smile before turning to catch up with Mike who was sitting just behind her.

Rehearsal passed with relative predictability, starting with another pep talk about the upcoming competition and continuing on into the solos for that day. As Kurt took to the floor to perform his selection, Rachel felt Finn draw her slightly closer and almost smiled in gentle exasperation at the unconscious reflex, even though they both knew that Kurt's attention lay elsewhere these days.

A lingering memory suddenly nudged into her mind, replacing one touch with another, one that belonged to a different time. Rachel briefly shut her eyes as the old feeling resurfaced: Jesse's arm slung casually over the back of her chair, body tilted ever so slightly towards hers, critical amusement in his eyes as they watched their fellow members take turns performing. Shaking the image out of her mind, she nestled her head against Finn's shoulder and let Kurt's voice wash over her restless thoughts; willing herself to pretend for just a bit longer that her world hadn't been tilted violently off its axis and sent spinning off into the wilderness of space.

Amelia followed Kurt, jumping up to take her place on the floor before Mr Schue could even get a word in. Flicking her pixie cut black hair away from her face, she nodded to the pianist and turned back to face the rest of the Glee Club. Puck muttered something rude under his breath that made Quinn roll her eyes and Rachel hide a reluctant smile.

As the opening words of '_My Funny Valentine'_ filled the choir room in that clear, lilting voice, she straightened in her seat to watch the performance more closely. Amelia definitely had an alluring quality to her voice, Rachel had been mature enough to recognize that right from the beginning, but it was nowhere near polished. It was almost brash in places, demanding attention rather than earning it; there was no discipline there. But the bigger problem was that she kept stepping on Rachel's style. There was only room for one Broadway Queen in this club.

She narrowed her eyes slightly in examination, a crease forming between her brows as she listened. Still, there was no denying it: the girl was _good_.

Rachel nearly jumped as she felt her phone vibrate sharply inside her pocket, breaking her concentration. Typical that Jesse could make her tingle when he wasn't even in the room. She tensed, her fingers winding more firmly into her boyfriend's, as if he could somehow keep her grounded even as she was already in free-fall. The illusion of safety was all she had left. The small cell phone suddenly felt like a burning coal next to her body, refusing to be avoided. She could feel his waiting words warm against her hip, but she didn't dare reach for them.

She barely noticed when Amelia's song ended; not until the room broke out in applause around her. Finally regaining the club's attention, Mr Schue proceeded to call them round the piano to run through some vocal exercises. There was a general scuffle of movement and chatter as people stood up and Rachel took the opportunity to slip away and steal some privacy. With a quick word to Finn, she broke off from the group and headed for the corridor. She caught a glance of Santana whispering something to Brittany with a smirk, but she ignored them.

Ducking into the nearest bathroom, she pressed her back against the door and waited for several moments, checking to make sure she was definitely alone. Closing her eyes, she simply rested in the white-tiled quiet for a while, but soon found that it was only making her heart beat all the louder. In resignation, she finally withdrew her phone and flipped it open, a strange flutter of dread and excitement stirring in her stomach.

_When do you finish?_

Rachel hesitated. The text was an invitation but her response would be confirmation: a commitment and agreement to all the risks involved in playing this dangerous game with him.

She walked over to the sinks and cold water splashed down into the bowl, breaking the quiet with a low gurgling. She cupped her hands and raised them to her face, letting the icy water smart against her heated skin. It was painfully refreshing, but it didn't bring the sudden clarity she was hoping for. Drying herself off, she stared at her reflection over the basin, brushing some damp hair off her forehead. Rachel _hated_ feeling out of control, and it was a feeling that seemed to surround Jesse in spades. She knew from bitter experience just how fast things could spiral around him; how quickly the wind could change.

Her eyes slid back to the silent cell phone that rested beside the sink: waiting, demanding an answer. Of course, she didn't have to give him one. She could ignore it. Ignore it all and hope the whole complicated nightmare went away.

But Rachel wasn't that naïve anymore.

Trying to pick her words carefully, she ended up comprising on an evasive half-truth.

_I'm not sure. It could be late though, we've a lot of stuff to get through._

She watched her message disappear, crossing satellites on its path back to him, before closing her phone, not entirely sure what she had accomplished in their brief exchange. Letting out a breath, she tried to force herself to relax, to compose herself before heading back to rehearsal. This was thwarted however, when her phone abruptly hummed in response against her palm.

_Well, I suppose I could always come and pick you up if you'd prefer? Slide to a dramatic stop right in front of the doors and sweep you off your feet in person, before whisking you away into the sunset. Do you think anyone would notice?_

Rachel felt her eyebrows rising in panic and incredulity as she read the teasing threat. She was _almost_ sure he was kidding.

_Do it and die, St. James._

She lingered this time, reluctant curiosity getting the better of her, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist replying. He didn't keep her waiting long.

_Tsk, how rude, Miss Berry. I'm sure Juliet never spoke to Romeo in such a manner when they were arranging their clandestine meetings. _

She rolled her eyes.

_Well, maybe she should have. Maybe then their doomed affair wouldn't have led to such epic tragedy. Maybe she should have just married Paris and left Romeo to go running back to the Montagues where he belonged. _

Silence greeted her response for a long moment and she suddenly wondered if perhaps her words had cut too close to the bone. Of course, she should have known better by now.

_True. But then wouldn't life be just so boring?_

Rachel felt her lips curving despite herself.

_Shut up._

/o/_  
_

Jesse smirked as the final, blunt message came through. He could almost picture the side smile on her lips: the same one she used to get whenever he made her laugh while she was trying to be mad. He'd always liked that look on her. Maybe that was why he enjoyed winding her up so much.

Smiling to himself, he snapped the phone shut. With a purr of tyres against tarmac, a sleek black car pulled out of McKinley High's parking lot, swinging back onto the main road with a smooth flourish.

Threats were never idle with Jesse St. James. Still, if there was one person whose wrath he possibly wanted to avoid, it was Rachel Berry's.

/o/

As it turned out, practice didn't end up carrying on that much longer. As soon as they were instructed with their next assignment, the club was dismissed and the members quickly dispersed, going their own separate ways for the night.

She wasn't quite sure how it happened, but Rachel had found herself roped in to going along to the ice cream parlour with Finn, Mercedes and Patrick on a kind of informal double date. She'd made quick objections but Patrick had assured her the place catered to her diet, and she had to admit, she'd been pleasantly surprised by the choice of non-diary ice cream available there. They'd quickly snagged the comfiest booth and set to work on their sundaes, the conversation moving easily between school, sports, music and club gossip. As Finn rested his arm across her shoulders and Mercedes laughed at Patrick's storytelling, the sharp twinge in her gut had slowly receded until she felt almost normal.

Being accepted socially was still something she was getting used to. She kept expecting it all to break down again when they remembered just how much she really annoyed them.

Hugging her jumper tighter around her she continued to march briskly up her street, staring down at the sidewalk under her feet, lost in thought. Finn had offered to walk her home but she'd declined; she needed the time to herself, hoping the fresh night air would help to clear her head.

"How was your date?"

Rachel's head snapped up in surprise, hand flying to her chest as she jerked to a stop just in front of her dark house. She peered through the shadows in suspicion, even though she already knew who was there waiting for her. There was something in his voice she couldn't quite place, but it made her feel uncomfortable.

"What, you're spying on me now?" Her tone was sharp with accusation as she pinned him in a cool glare.

Jesse shrugged, still leaning back beside her front door in poised slouch that was so familiar it made her heart lurch in her chest. "No, just observant. Last time I checked, Vocal Adrenaline were the only ones who rehearsed 'til after ten at night." His lips tilted up in a knowing smile and Rachel reluctantly let her defensiveness drop. With a sigh, she slowly walked the rest of the distance to her door, stepping past him.

She felt him push off from the wall but didn't look up as she fished her keys out. She shook her head. "You shouldn't be here, Jesse. My dads-"

"-aren't home." His voice was low and enticing against the nape of her neck, sending an electric current jolting down her spine. She could feel his body close at her back and her breathing kicked up a notch.

She smiled but didn't turn around. "Now I_ know_ you're spying."

He laughed into her shoulder, the warm sound slipping over her skin in a soft vibration. She pushed the door open and let him follow her inside, quickly busying herself with switching on the lights and dumping her bag.

"I'm thirsty," she blurted out before wincing at how awkward she sounded. "Do you want something?"

"I'm fine."

Rachel quickly disappeared into the adjoining kitchen, leaving Jesse alone in the living room to amuse himself. He'd been in her house enough times before to be more than comfortable; though of course, Jesse had a gift of feeling at ease wherever he was. Grateful to escape that piercing gaze for a few moments, she rinsed out a clean glass and ordered herself to get a grip.

"How was rehearsal anyway?" His voice carried through easily from the other room. Rachel gauged the question for a second, but it only seemed to contain casual interest.

"Good," she replied after a pause. _Exhausting and frustrating_, she added mentally. She suddenly wished she could ask him how he had managed it, how he'd coped with the pressure and stress of carrying the heart of a performance for his whole team when the stakes were so high. For a moment, she wished so much that she could just share the highs and lows of such an intense experience with the only other person who had been in the same position.

But she wouldn't. It only brought up sore memories that neither wanted to discuss, and besides it was just something she wouldn't admit to anyone – especially not him. Rachel usually thrived on demanding pressure when it was helping her towards future success, she knew her dreams of stardom wouldn't come true without relentless dedication, but it didn't mean she wasn't still susceptible to nerves from time to time; that she didn't still have fleeting moments of terrifying doubt. And that was something Jesse would never understand.

Her brow furrowed in thought as she crushed some ice into her glass, diverting her attention to other less sensitive concerns.

"Mr Schue gave Amelia another solo," she added finally. She tried to sound nonchalant, like she was only making conversation, but she could hear the irritation edging into her voice as she continued. "I know that he wants to seem fair and I can appreciate that, really I can. It's good for team morale after all. Still, with Regionals coming up, we really should be concentrating the effort where it matters."

She kept talking, not sure and not really caring if he could hear her or not, it just felt good to vent at last. The whole issue had been grating on her for while. Something she'd been stewing over in silence, a touchy subject that she had given up trying to discuss with Finn and the others. She knew this was an unattractive quality in her, but she was fed up of having her concerns dismissed as typical prima donna behaviour whenever she tried to bring it up.

"I know she's been pushing for a bigger role in the set list performances, it's so obvious. I mean, she's okay, but it's all flash and no substance if you ask me. Her breathing technique is amateur to start with, it would be one thing if she had been trained properly, but the others just can't seem to see past it." She almost growled in frustration and took a few gulps of water, before quickly resuming her flow.

In the living room, a wry smile touched Jesse's lips. Rachel hated having her crown threatened: it made her feel insecure, even though she would never admit it. He supposed it was a natural and understandable reaction, but it was still unwarranted. That club would be nothing better than mediocre without Rachel. Talent like hers didn't come along very often, and when it did, it never passed under Jesse's radar. He knew that she'd been instrumental in pulling that team together and giving them a shot at the big competitions for the first time in years. She'd been the only _possible _threat to Vocal Adrenaline's Regionals victory last year; McKinley wouldn't have been worthy of a passing mention otherwise. Still, they'd never stood a real chance against Carmel. Not while Jesse was still Vocal Adrenaline at heart.

He frowned slightly in consideration. The name was unfamiliar to him; New Directions had obviously expanded since his time. But if they were really determined to enter the big leagues, then they'd better get used to rising frictions and dirty politics. Success came with a price and there was always someone snapping at your heels when you were at the top. Jesse had seen off more than a few 'competitors' during his high school career, though he used the term_ very_ loosely. It was just something Rachel was going to have to learn for herself.

Still, there was something strangely endearing about her when she was indignant and ranting away like this. It was a unique Rachel Berry trait that he remembered very well. He smiled to himself and turned to let his gaze drift across the arrangement of framed photos that lined the shelves beside him.

There was one of when she must have been only seven or eight, obviously having just won another talent competition. The small trophy adorned with a glittering silver star was clutched tightly in her hands as the little girl grinned toothily at the camera, dark hair pulled into two sleek plaits, eyes bright and face unabashedly happy. She had been lifted up into her dads' arms for the photo, both beaming proudly at their absurdly talented daughter. Jesse touched a finger to the picture frame in silent thought. Excitable, starry-eyed with determination, protected in an embrace of unconditional love – she looked every inch the definition of innocent, raw potential. Even then, she seemed confident that the world would one day grant her dreams.

But innocence was quickly taken and trust was easily broken.

Withdrawing his hand, his eyes fell upon another picture, containing a familiar group. It must have been taken shortly after their victory at Sectionals. Mr Schuester was laughing and holding the typically oversized trophy as equally joyous grins stretched the faces of every member of New Directions. Their cheeks were flushed and costumes rumpled from performance; arms flung across shoulders and hands thrown up in the air in celebration. It must have been this year's competition; the differences were easy to spot. They looked older, more self assured. Jesse's gaze focused on the laughing couple at the centre of the group. Finn had grown taller and bulked out since last year. Rachel looked luminous, glowing with unbridled excitement as she hugged Finn tightly with a beaming smile, so proud of everything they had just accomplished. Her team.

It was her life without him. Her _real _life; the one she was so fiercely protecting. And she'd been happy.

Looking away sharply, Jesse frowned and tried to settle his thoughts back under control. He glanced off towards the kitchen where he could still hear her talking away to herself, like she always did whenever she was awkward and pre-occupied. A sly smile pulled his lips. Maybe he should do something about that.

Rachel drew in a surprised breath, cutting off mid-sentence, as she felt his arms suddenly wrap around her waist from behind. She hadn't noticed him sneak up.

"Tough day. Sounds like you need to relax."

She could hear the playful smile in his voice and turned around but before she could answer him, Jesse lifted her off her feet, twirling them across the floor. Rachel shrieked, hiding her laugh in his neck as she let him pull her away from the counter. She slipped into his embrace so easily it sent a physical echo shooting up through her body.

The exultant feeling on that crowded stage as everyone cheered, enjoying the high of an energetic number and another great show. The sensation of his body gripping her tightly, his smile pressed into her shoulder as he spun them around, together and finally out in the open; the moment when she had begun to truly believe that everything might just work out after all. The club's first performance after he'd supposedly quit Vocal Adrenaline.

'_For you.'_

Rachel felt her stomach twist as the memories overlapped and quickly shut her eyes tighter, blocking out everything but the solid feeling of his arms around her _now_, holding her to him so firmly, as if she were in danger of slipping out of his reach again.

He finally replaced her on her feet and pulled back to catch her gaze, hands locking around her lower back, keeping her close. Every fibre in Rachel's body was taught with simmering energy, her breath shallow in her lungs as she linked her fingers around his neck. "'Relax'…might be the wrong word," she corrected with a small grin.

Jesse laughed softly. Rachel could still feel the lingering smirk against her lips when his mouth met hers.

**~o~**

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**AN**: So, let me know what you think? Thanks for reading.**  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

Rachel took in a deep, steady breath and let it out slowly; resetting her body's equilibrium as her voice faded with the final note, melting into the quiet that filled the room. Finally opening her eyes with trepidation she looked into the dresser mirror, meeting his thoughtful gaze that was watching her back in the fragile reflection.

His lips twitched so slightly, an amused smile hinting at the edge of his mouth, like he was fighting back a laugh. Rachel felt her heart drop into her stomach; confusion, pride and stinging hurt clamouring up to claim the sudden void in her chest. She had _known_ this whole experiment was a bad idea. This was not traditionally her area of musical expertise; she did pop ballads and Broadway – that was what she was good at. No, that was what she was amazing at. She_ owned_ those songs. This…This was just a little more awkward to fit her voice and style around. It was an adjustment.

She should have never told him about it. She wasn't sure why she had, her over-eager mouth getting her into trouble again. But it had made sense in some part of her mind at the time: after all, he had much more experience in this particular genre, and had seemed willing to share his superior knowledge in helping her match her unique style to unfamiliar songs. The band had been his suggestion, and Rachel had considered their extensive song choices for a while before hesitantly agreeing to give one a go. She should have known she'd regret it. Why did she let him talk her into this?

Her expression must have betrayed her momentarily, as his eyes flickered down to her hands in silent answer. Quickly following his gaze, Rachel winced in embarrassment at the pink hairbrush that was clasped between her fingers.

_Oh_.

She didn't remember picking it up. It was a childish habit of comfort that kept creeping back in moments of reassurance. To be fair though, most of the time when she sang in front of the bedroom mirror – she was usually alone. Well, there had been that one time with Noah, but he'd certainly never seemed bothered one way or another about her singing quirks. Hastily, she shoved it back onto the dresser, nudging it away from her before straightening up with dignified flick of her hair. The smile had widened when she found his face in the glass again; those dark eyes warm with gentle laughter. Rachel broke his gaze and looked down, desperate to control the heat in her cheeks and fighting the shy tug of her lips.

"So, what do you think?" she asked slowly, hating the nervousness in her voice; the fact that his professional opinion still meant so much to her. But she couldn't deny that it did. Regardless of what he'd done: his dirty manipulation, doubtful morals and ruthless streak – he was still a national champion. Recognised and rewarded in their competitive circles and no doubt in the wider circuit beyond, where he was already making a name for himself. She trusted his talent, if nothing else.

He dipped his head in a small nod of approval. "Good." His expression sobered, turning critical as he considered her performance. "You're still forcing that last note too hard though. Try it lower."

Rachel frowned slightly and threw him a sceptical glance but tried it all the same. Pulling her shoulders back in perfect posture, she raised her head and closed her eyes in concentration as she re-sang the last chorus verse. Taking care to control her voice and guided by his advice, she slipped seamlessly into a lower note at the right moment.

It did sound better.

With a reluctant sigh, she opened her eyes again. Upon seeing the barely concealed frustration on her face, Jesse laughed. She was so cute when she pouted.

"You're welcome," he teased, an infuriating grin on his lips.

Rachel rolled her eyes but felt herself smile in response. She leant back against the table, hands nervously flipping through another stack of CDs. "I'm still not sure. Maybe we should look for something else? There's got to be something that's more a middle ground."

"Maybe," he conceded with a shrug. "But these things aren't meant to be easy. That's the whole point."

She looked up, slightly irritated at his tone but knowing he was right. And that was even more annoying. His mouth tilted in a subtle smirk as he met her impatient glare, and a distracting tingle skimmed through her lower stomach.

He was still sitting on her bed but he'd shifted to lean back against the pillows when she'd stood up to sing, legs stretched out along the mattress comfortably and body relaxed. A stark contrast to Rachel: whose fingers couldn't stop fidgeting with the discs in her hands as she subconsciously pressed further back into the table behind her, trying uselessly to stretch the small distance between them.

They had stayed downstairs the other night; Rachel resolutely clinging to the open, safe areas of her house, avoiding any further risk and determined to retain some semblance of control over her rapidly spiralling weakness. The problem was that she wasn't sure who she distrusted more sometimes.

She didn't know quite how they'd worked their way up to her room this evening, caught up in an animated debate as they were, except that it had felt such a natural reaction that by the time she remembered the reality of their situation, it was too late to remedy it.

After all, most of her stuff was here so it had made sense to do the research upstairs; such a familiar activity for both of them that at times she had felt trapped in a déjà vu. They had been in this position so many times before, and the warm memories it evoked were deceptively tempting. She mentally cursed herself for letting them slip back into old habits. It was such a strong echo of their past relationship that it was almost disorientating.

This had been dangerous territory at the best of times. Her bedroom was too private, too comfortable and insular; it was too easy to forget, to pretend like things had never changed between them.

Now, as their eyes held across the floor, she was suddenly painfully aware that they were once more alone and sharing the same intimate space. And neither was speaking; most unusual in her case. Swallowing hard, she turned to the side and tapped a finger against the laptop; taking the excuse to look away as she set iTunes to run through her favourite playlist.

The music drifted into the room, not exactly breaking the tension but providing a distraction that reduced it to a much more manageable level. Rachel hesitated for another moment, before finally walking back over. A sigh escaped her lips, a tinge of uncertainty creasing her brow as she sat down on the bed next to him. "I don't understand why Mr Schue wants us to do this," she admitted quietly.

There was a contemplative pause. She could feel Jesse watching her but she only stared down at her hands as they continued to absently sift through the blizzard of sheet music, song books and printed lyrics that were still spread out on top of the bedcovers, left from when they had been pouring over them so intently just a little earlier. To occupy herself, she began gathering them into a neat pile.

"It's a common technique actually." She looked up at his voice to see him give a dismissive shrug. "We used to do it sometimes to stop people getting too complacent. It's to test your versatility with style; push you out of your comfort zone. He's probably just seeing if you can find the message of a song and give it the power to transcend the genre."

Rachel looked thoughtful at his words and he could almost see the determination clicking into place inside her mind as she fervently sought for a way to excel at this new test of her talent. A mischievous smile crossed his face before he sighed dramatically. "Of course, if you feel it's beyond your skills…" Before she could object, he smoothly plucked the music from her hands and lifted it away.

"Hey!" She quickly made to grab it back but Jesse held it teasingly out of reach. "I never said that! I was simply unsure as to the purpose of the assignment!" He laughed and the tug of war continued until Rachel finally managed to stretch over him and snatch the waving papers from his hand.

She flopped back down on her knees beside him, a half-hearted scowl on her face that quickly gave way to a mutual grin. Jesse settled back against the bed again, his arm falling around her waist.

"If you ask me, as assignments go, it could have been a lot worse. At least he's not making you dredge the pools of pop rejects to test your musical creativity this time."

A knowing smile pulled Rachel's lips as she nestled closer. "What; like '_Ice Ice Baby' _Part Two, or something?"

Jesse made a face as if the memory still physically pained him. "That song is still a crime against music."

"I don't know," she teased, shifting to lean down over him. "You looked like you were pretty converted after that routine. You got into it. You were _enjoying _yourself."

He only raised his eyebrows and gave an ambiguous smile.

Honestly, he'd thought it was a joke at first. He'd known that New Directions had a reputation for being eccentric and a little quirky, but seriously, no self respecting show choir would be caught dead wasting their time on such a musical train-wreck, and Jesse had greeted the absurd suggestion with as much enthusiasm as it deserved.

The spontaneous performance that followed had actually taken him by surprise. It had been _fun_; something that was all together lacking in Vocal Adrenaline rehearsals. He had to give New Directions that to their credit: they actually managed to have a laugh, together and even at themselves. Of course, their performance quality suffered for it. Their priorities were just different: they allowed themselves to get too easily distracted, too emotional, and it left them vulnerable. They simply didn't have the focus and stamina that had been drilled so relentlessly into his team; the competitive edge that would take them to Nationals.

Still, he couldn't deny it had felt good to just let go and mess around for once, without all that constant pressure. Laughing and dancing beside Rachel as Mr Schue somehow pulled off that ridiculous rap with a cheesy, good-humoured style. It had certainly been an experience.

Something winced inside his ribcage as the memory of just how the rest of that assignment had turned out stirred briefly, but he quickly forced it down. His expression didn't flicker.

There was an amused sparkle in her eyes as she held his gaze, still trying to wheedle the embarrassing admission from him. She was half leaning on his chest, close enough that he could smell the faintly exotic fragrance that clung to the sleek waves of her hair. He pressed his palm against the small of her back, still only a light touch but firm enough to discourage her from pulling away, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Temporary insanity."

Rachel poked a finger at his chest with a grin. "Liar."

A hot shiver ran through them both as she fed his own accusation back to him. His eyes darkened though his voice remained gently teasing. "Sorry but face it: some songs are just unredeemable, even in the hands of Mr Schuester."

Rachel laughed; a gorgeous melody that he only got to appreciate for a moment before it was lost in the warmth of her lips.

The kiss was a tantalizingly soft brush against his mouth; a whisper of such tenderness that it caught both unprepared. They were so close that he could feel the shudder of doubt as it tensed her body a split second before she gently broke the contact.

But Jesse had other ideas.

Subtly tightening his grip to halt her movement, he raised a hand to her face and brought her mouth back to his before they had even drawn two inches apart. A smile briefly curved his lips as he felt her slowly relax into his touch. He stroked his thumb along her cheek as the kiss deepened; fingers tracing a path to her temple where they slipped into her hair, winding into the silky locks in a firm embrace.

He'd always loved her talented mouth. Soft lips that were endlessly distracting: ever occupied as they moved in an eager rush of words, dramatic speeches and heated arguments; parting gracefully to release that spell-binding voice when she sang; so giving and yet equally commanding against his; always strongly expressive, even in silence, and just so typically Rachel.

There were a hundred different memories contained within her touch, ones he should have forgotten but that his body clearly remembered: all those stolen kisses between classes; fingers that entwined so perfectly in his; hugs that grew increasingly hard to break; an almost magnetic undercurrent that kept them unconsciously seeking some form of contact, however small and seemingly innocent.

A flurry of shared moments that spread out like ripples on a sheet of water; echoes breaking across the calm stillness and reaching back in time, so warm and inviting that Jesse was sure he'd be content to explore them for hours. It still remained his favourite way of settling their debates.

His hand slid down to her waist, drawing her closer against him, effortlessly pulling their bodies together without ever breaking the slow rhythm of their kiss. He could feel Rachel following his familiar, leading touch with the same physical instinct that made her such an excellent dance partner; a silent communication and mutual understanding in their movements that was unparalleled. She pressed close to his chest, hands tightening in his t-shirt as they fell deeper into the lingering embrace.

Jesse bit back a groan as she shifted unintentionally against him, quickly adjusting his grip to kiss her harder, losing himself in her intoxicating taste. It would be so easy – so tempting. All it would take was one smooth action to flip them over, to reverse their positions and feel her warm body pinned under his, to take control. He knew how fast things could escalate between them; his fingers were already toying with the edge of her top, pushing it up to let them skim across the bare skin of her back, enticing sweet shivers from the girl in his arms. It was a strong desire to attempt to curb; the impulse far too natural to resist.

Just then, he felt Rachel carefully pull back just enough to break the kiss. A gentle gesture of restraint; as if she could read his thoughts and wanted to stop them both. She rested her face close to his as they slowly recovered themselves; her breath quick and uneven, fluttering against his cheek like butterfly's wings. Blinking her eyes open like she were escaping a daze, he seized his chance to steal one last, light kiss from her lips before her senses could return completely. She gave him a shy smile, before finally pulling herself away from him to sit up on the bed again.

Jesse watched as she took a deep, calming breath and tugged a nervous hand through her hair which was adorably mussed, tangled from his fingers. His eyes strayed to her lips: slightly parted and freshly kissed, warm with the lingering imprint of his touch. Ignoring the simmering urge of his body, he allowed himself a small smile and contented himself with soaking in the intimate sight that had been denied to him for so long; one that he'd once believed had been lost to him forever.

Never let it be said that Jesse St. James didn't enjoy a good challenge.

Her eyes were currently off limits though. She was looking anywhere but at him, concentrating instead on collecting together the last of the papers from her bed. "I don't really think this is the most productive way to research, do you?" Her voice was impressively composed, considering.

"Well, it wasn't entirely my idea if you recall."

That earned him a sharp glance and frown, as if she suspected he had somehow tricked her into kissing him. Jesse almost laughed but soon decided that would be a bad idea and settled instead for a raised eyebrow.

Biting her lip, Rachel looked away again, and for a moment the conflicted guilt and confusion was evident in every feature of her face. Jesse's expression softened.

"Actually, a little distraction can be good for the creative process. And I suppose it means I'll just have to come back and help you finish the assignment another time, since you clearly can't do it without me."

His cheek was rewarded with a playful shove and grudging smile.

"I still haven't made up my mind about the song, you know. Your presence may be completely unwarranted after all."

"I doubt it."

Rachel held his gaze for a moment, trying to read the emotion in his eyes. The arrogant certainty in his voice ran deeper than the teasing words, and it was wreaking havoc with her own conviction. She quickly forced it aside for now. Lips twitching in an indulgent grin, she turned and picked up the bundle of books and sheets as she moved to stand up.

With a sigh, Jesse pushed himself up on the pillows, idly watching as she walked back to her desk and began pulling out an assortment of colour coded folders and binders, a crease of concentration on her forehead as she sorted out the new sheets of music into their proper filing place. A fond smile crossed his lips. Nice to know some things didn't change.

They both heard it at the same moment.

Rachel whipped around and took a step over, but Jesse beat her to it. A painful knot swelled up in her chest as she saw him get to his feet and grab her singing cell phone off the bedside table before she could even try to stop him. What the hell was he playing at?

Forced to stop in her tracks, she could only watch as his eyes skimmed the screen and quickly registered the incoming call. The immediate reaction was subtle but it was definitely there: a faint cloud passed over his face, tightening his features almost imperceptibly. It would've been all the confirmation for her fear that she needed, if she didn't already know that _Journey _ringtone by heart. He didn't look up, didn't make any motion that betrayed his thoughts, calmly silent as he regarded the phone that was still ringing against his palm.

Rachel was so tense her muscles were starting to hurt, taut with desperation as she fought the urge to try and snatch it back from him. She just couldn't take the risk. Not when he was holding a direct line to her outside life; the life he could so easily shatter with a careless word right now – if he chose to. She hardly dared breathe, caught in the precarious stand off, waiting for someone to blink. Agonizing silence filled her room save for the soft murmur of her running music and the insistent, electronic tune that rang out from the flashing phone.

Standing her ground, she straightened stiffly and held out an expectant hand; bluffing a cool authority that she didn't entirely feel. "Pretty sure it's for me."

An ironic smile flickered briefly at the corner of his mouth. It was the only sign of acknowledgment she got. The unspoken whisper crossed the air between them, echoing from a mutual memory; pressing and urgent.

'_No one can know.'_

His eyes didn't shift from her cell phone, the name that was repeatedly flashing across the screen. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He'd never been good at sharing.

"Jesse."

Her voice had sharpened into a terse warning; panic creeping into her tone. She took a quick step towards him before he abruptly turned and tossed the phone to her, harder than she was expecting. Rachel blinked down at the device that was suddenly in her possession, struggling to feel the relief amidst the tumble of emotion that shot through her.

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

She felt herself bristle at the taunting challenge in his voice. He was trying to force her hand. Daring her to prove she could really play her part in this; that she was capable of matching him in their game of deception. He was trying to make her choose – even if it was just for one moment.

The smart thing to do would be to rise above it; ignore his sly goading and play it safe. It wasn't worth the risk. She didn't have to prove anything to Jesse. She didn't owe him anything, except a bitter and bruised heart. She didn't have to play this game just to satisfy his selfish amusement.

She looked up again and met his gaze. His stance was professionally unconcerned, but his eyes locked into hers with silent provocation. She answered him back with a glare that was just as stubborn. It was another battle of wills, a clash for the upper hand, and she refused to admit defeat to him. Rachel never backed away from a challenge.

She cast one last glance at the phone in her hand, before taking a deep breath and finally answering.

"Hello?"

She avoided looking at Jesse; instead focusing all of her attention on the familiar voice that spoke in her ear; the one she knew so well; the one that had always belonged beside hers. It was surreal, like two parallel lives crashing onto the same plane of existence: an unstable balance that surely couldn't be sustained for long.

Jesse's eyes narrowed invisibly, a frown glancing across his expression. Yet as quickly as it had come, it was gone again; replaced with a gleam of reluctant respect. Rachel never disappointed. She always made things more interesting.

He watched as she wrapped both hands tight around the small cell phone, holding it close to her ear protectively, like she feared he would try to steal it back from her grip. But Jesse didn't work like that. There were _much_ better ways of proving a point.

"Hi," she replied a second later as the returning voice came through, an warm smile moving her lips instinctively that stung somewhere deep inside his chest. Knowing that smile was still reserved for _him_. She turned her back to Jesse, stepping further away with the conversation, determinedly ignoring his presence, as if by sheer force of will she could pretend that he wasn't there at all.

A wicked smile tugged his mouth. This battle was by no means won.

"How's practise going?" she asked automatically, trying to keep her full effort on maintaining a normal pitch in her voice. Yet she couldn't help but smile as Finn launched into the usual play-by-play report he gave after each of his games; eager to fill her in on the technical details of a good pass or new tactic they had been working on. She was used to it by now, and she enjoyed his endearing enthusiasm even if a lot of the sports jargon passed her by; though she sometimes surprised herself with how much she had actually soaked in over the time they had been going out. Still, it was important to him and Rachel had been determined to be a supportive girlfriend; she _was_ dating the school's sports star after all.

Nodding and murmuring appropriate responses, she failed to notice Jesse as he quietly moved behind her, not until she suddenly felt his hands settle on her waist.

Her breath caught and she jerked in surprise but his touch was firm. Her fingers clenched around the phone to stop her from accidently dropping it; panic threatening to close up her throat completely as his hands slowly slipped lower, dragging down over the curves of her hips in a torturous trail that Rachel was certain would melt the fabric away from her skin.

She should have known he'd play dirty.

Nudging her elbow back into his chest with a sharp jab, she quickly removed herself from his embrace, shooting him a fierce warning glance which only received an innocent quirk of his eyebrow.

Turning away in an effort to control her racing heartbeat, she took a shaky breath and refocused on her boyfriend's voice. He was complaining about how hard the coach was cracking down on them; apparently he'd chewed out Josh in front of the whole team, just for one stupid mistake. "Was he okay?" she asked; partly to show she was still listening but also out of genuine concern. She actually liked Josh. He always nodded and smiled when they passed each other in the corridor; a refreshing change from the slushie facial she usually received in acknowledgment.

She almost missed Finn's reply in the surge of adrenaline that rushed through her veins as she felt the unmistakable heat of Jesse's body against her back once more; far too close for comfort. How did he keep managing to sneak up on her?

Rachel stiffened and immediately moved to separate them again, but his arm snaked around her waist to splay his palm flat against her stomach, preventing an easy escape this time. She forced herself to mumble a reply to the waiting phone, but she barely trusted herself to speak for fear her voice would betray the pounding heart that was almost ricocheting off her ribs.

She knew what he was doing, and it sent an uneasy chill of anticipation down her spine. It was another game of dare; she'd answered his challenge after all, and he wasn't going to make it easy on her. Rachel mentally thwacked her forehead as she realised just how vulnerable she had left herself to him. One misstep now could cost her everything; and they both knew it.

Jesse brushed a kiss across the nape of her neck, and her body temperate spiked another few degrees. Her eyes fluttered closed in a bid to clear her mind and grasp her wits, but it only served to intensify the sensation of his touch against her electrified skin.

She felt those clever fingers as they ran across her shoulder to just below her neck, before in one smooth tug, the keyhole tie at the back of her shirt came undone. Rachel's eyes shot open with a sharp breath. She quickly bit her tongue, fuming and silently cursing Jesse to the very Gods of Broadway. She couldn't slip up in front of Finn. No matter what. She was only thankful she wasn't wearing a halter top or anything worse for him to torture her with. Icy fear pushed into the back of her mind: the truth was that she wasn't sure just how far he would take this.

The phone was pressed so hard to her ear it was almost painful, but she could still barely make out Finn's voice through the thunder of her racing blood. She forced all her energy into sounding as normal as possible, even as she struggled to think straight enough to answer him coherently.

The torment didn't end though. Rachel's nerves ignited in fire as she felt his fingertips graze down her neck in feather touches, slowly skimming over the freshly exposed skin of her back where her shirt had fallen open; sketching invisible, intricate designs into her body with a creative flair that she suddenly remembered all too vividly.

"_Rach, everything okay?"_

Rachel abruptly realised she wasn't taking in enough oxygen; she felt almost lightheaded as she rushed back to the sound of Finn's voice at the other end of the phone. This was getting out of hand – she couldn't afford to let him distract her like this. She tried to push herself free from Jesse's hold but his arm tightened around her, locking them in place. Clenching her jaw in an angry demand she couldn't utter, she forced a smile into her voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing important. Sorry, what were you saying?"

That proved to be the wrong thing to say, as Jesse responded by lowering his head to softly press his mouth to her already burning skin. Rachel drew in a shallow breath and almost stuttered her replying words, acutely aware of his teasing lips as they leisurely followed a similar trail to the one his fingers had just etched into her flesh. She desperately screwed her eyes shut in concentration against the assault of smouldering shivers that swept through her body from the contact. She felt his lips curve up against her bare skin: the cocky, smug smile of one who knew _exactly_ how to turn a girl into a melting pot of lust and desire.

"_Anyway, Coach seems to have finally let us off the hook. We're just finishing up; I was thinking I could swing by yours if –"_

"No!" Rachel blurted out the panicked objection before she could stop herself. She quickly winced and pressed her fingers into her forehead in an attempt to get a grip on her conflicting emotions that were rapidly avalanching out of control, threatening to suffocate her in the crush. Jesse may be manipulating a heady rush of physical responses with his current command over her body; but Finn's voice was piercing through her heart with each unknowing word – the unbearable strain of a betrayed trust that was tearing her to shreds emotionally.

Rachel felt like she was ripping apart; caught between two opposing forces that were gradually destroying her, piece by piece. And she was letting them.

Pulling her hand away and regaining a measure of control over her voice, she hastened to amend her outburst. "It's just, now…is not a good time." She could feel Jesse laugh quietly against her back, and fought the urge to grit her teeth. "I mean, I've just started work on my Glee assignment and I need to concentrate. Plus I've got a stack of Biology homework that Mr Harris decided to drop on us, and I won't have time over the weekend because my dads are taking me out, so I really need to try and get most of it done tonight –" She only stopped her speech because she ran out of air, but Finn cut in before she could reload.

"_Hey, no worries. You're still coming to the game tomorrow, right?"_

"O–Of course."

Rachel struggled to hide the tremble in her voice as she felt Jesse lean in closer; fingers lightly tracing the smooth plane between her shoulder blades. Heat swirled in the pit of her stomach, stoked hotter by his tempting touch. It was almost impossible to keep her composure as his mouth did things to her skin that should be outlawed; clouding her thoughts with raw sensation and blurring the borderline that they were dangerously close to edging over.

"_Great. Though, could you maybe give the sparkly, 'Team' t-shirt a miss this time? I mean, I appreciate the effort, Rach; but it's just kinda…distracting."_

She fought past the tightness in her throat and forced a bright smile over the hurt. 'Embarrassing' was what he meant, what went unspoken. "Yeah, sure."

Jesse nuzzled into her shoulder, distracting her with devastating effect; those rebellious hands trailing down to rest low on her hips. Rachel swallowed back a gasp as she felt the last of her stubborn pride start to crack under the pressure. She squirmed in his hold, attempting to gain some distance, to regain her perspective; but his grip only tightened, pulling her firmer back into him until she could feel every line of his defined body against hers.

They were too close. Finn would hear…

An involuntary shiver tingled down her neck as his fingers delicately swept aside her hair; lips brushing just below her earlobe. She could barely breathe; trapped by Finn's voice in one ear and Jesse's hot breath in the other: two worlds that were seconds from bleeding into each other. She couldn't let that happen. Guilt burned painfully inside her chest, threatening to poison her voice with the deceit of her body, but Rachel drew on every bit of skill she had and succeeded in keeping the words level.

"I have to go; but I'll meet you tomorrow before class, okay?"

She nodded and returned his goodbye, keeping a tight reign on her emotions as she carefully ended the call. The second she was certain they were disconnected, she instantly wrenched herself free from his arms with a furious scowl.

"_Jesse!_" she hissed; the word a desperate mixture of anger, disbelief and imploring. She spun around to confront him and found his dark eyes almost liquid with desire as they met hers; something possessive stirring just behind the lust; a familiar and confident smirk on his lips.

"Yes?" he replied innocently, ever composed and always the perfect actor. Oddly, the fact that he could appear so unruffled by their encounter, while her heart was still beating like a deranged drummer in her chest, infuriated her more than anything else just then. Rachel narrowed her eyes in a scathing glare, which was probably exactly the reaction he predicted.

"Just what do you think you're trying to pull?" she demanded, voice rising higher than she intended. "Or was… _that_…all just for kicks?"

Jesse made her wait for a moment before giving a small, non-committal shrug; that private smile still tilting his mouth. Rachel hesitated, caught in the full force of his gaze. She knew that he was well aware they were treading a dangerous line, but he embraced the thrill while it terrified her. She was starting to realise just how far out of her depth she was.

He was looking entirely too pleased with himself as she frowned and quickly moved to settle a safe distance away from him. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she took a deep breath and calmed her flushed skin with a good show of self-control against the raging hormones that had just flooded through her body at his hands.

She shook her head, struggling to fortify her fresh resolve. "This shouldn't be happening. We – I can't do this to him anymore."

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he considered the weight behind her words. He had no such qualms about hurting Finn's feelings. After all, the jock had certainly wasted no time in making a move on Rachel before, back when Jesse had briefly skipped town after the '_Run, Joey, Run'_ fiasco last year.

He'd never told her he knew about that, and he had no immediate plans to do so now. A derisive scorn passed over his face with his thoughts. Serenading his estranged girlfriend with a mediocre cover of '_Jessie's Girl'_ was just the sort of uninspired, amateur tactic he expected from Hudson – and about as subtle as an anvil.

All's fair in love and war, as far as Jesse was concerned.

Of course, if it was an unbearable burden of guilt to her, it was easily remedied.

"Then tell him the truth."

Rachel looked up sharply to meet his darkened eyes: hard with a tense dare that was concealed behind his teasing smile. The words hung in the air between them for a long moment. But this was a challenge Rachel knew she wasn't prepared to meet. Deep down, she may have known it was only a wishful conviction, but it was no less true.

She held his probing gaze, both searching the other for something they weren't yet sure of. She should tell him to leave. Close her life to him before it was too late. Walk away and never look back, like she thought she had done nearly a year ago.

But she didn't.

Rachel sighed in defeat, feeling her resolve falter and crumble in the face of her destructive desire. "What, that I'm a masochist?"

Jesse tilted his head back in a warm laugh that instantly broke the guarded atmosphere that had built up. He walked forward and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close as he looked down with an affectionate smile. "Always so dramatic, babe."

"Do you have another word for – this?" She gestured between them before shrugging her shoulders helplessly. There was a moment of quiet as Jesse stroked his fingers gently through her hair, a simple gesture that was inexplicably comforting, before he drew her against his chest. Rachel settled into his embrace, letting his arms circle her protectively; unable to understand the feeling of tender safety that washed over her, but choosing not to care. He rested his chin on top of her head, and she closed her eyes.

She felt him smile against her hair. "How about '_star-crossed lovers_'? If we're going to be truly theatrical about this, we may as well go all out."

"Back to Romeo and Juliet again?" she asked dryly; the quiet words almost inaudible as she mumbled them into his shirt. "Doesn't that always end badly?"

His thumb smoothed over the base of her neck, tracing the soft skin in steady caress; a wry smile in his voice. "You always like what's bad for you."

**~o~**

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**AN** This chapter turned out longer than I expected, but hopefully it was worth the wait. I do actually have some semblance of a plan for this story, it is going somewhere, I promise. What can I say - St. Berry just covets the dramatic angst, so drop me a note if this made you smile or frown or roll your eyes! ;) Let me know what you think? It really is a massive motivator, plus just happy karma. Thanks for reading.

_**Ciao.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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_Stop. _

The command pounded through her head, confused and frantic, but her body wasn't listening. Blind fingers reached out, latching onto fistfuls of his warm shirt and pulling him closer; crushing their bodies together in a delicious tangle of hot limbs and eager mouths. The pressure of his torso against hers pinned them both to the bed with a grounding weight that set every cell of her body on edge.

Rachel was acutely aware of every touch of his hands as they roamed across her form: the trail he was weaving slowly down her side, the sparkling heat of his fingers as they skimmed the gap of skin at her midriff for a tantalizing moment before sliding lower on their wandering path, following the curve of her leg. She drew in a breath, breaking their kiss for only a second as she felt his hand hook under her knee and give a strong tug, settling her body firmly beneath his.

_Too fast._

The voice of reason struggled to free itself from her absorbed thoughts, but he wouldn't release her lips long enough for her to even attempt to verbalise it.

There was a current of urgency that hummed under their movements, a deep pull that Rachel had never felt before, and it thrilled and unnerved her at the same time. Another jolt surged through her system as she felt Jesse draw her deeper into his embrace, his body gripping hers with the kind of intensity that normally sprang from agonized separation; as if it had been months instead of days since they had last touched. Though of course, it some ways, it had been.

The fervour that had descended in that first moment of contact was still raging through them both: a swirling black hole that greedily consumed everything around it; frightening and demanding and never satisfied; spurred on with each lingering submission. She could feel it beckoning in the tempting press of their bodies: a void of darkness that drowned out any light that strayed too close. And the reckless urge to surrender to it only made her more determined not to.

Absence made the heart do funny things. She had survived for a year without being this close to him, and she had barely blinked at it. She was finally content, her life wasn't missing anything; she certainly didn't miss _him._ Yet somehow, the last two days had felt almost like a trial of endurance: unconsciously tracking the clock, counting down to the next moment they could steal some time together.

Her attempt to keep a clear, defined line between him and her life was getting harder and harder to maintain, as she found his illicit presence invading her thoughts with an unsettling regularity. Rachel caught herself making notes of little things throughout her day: a song inspiration that she wanted his opinion on; something random that made her laugh during rehearsal; frustration at a lack of progress with a certain number; muttered insults she overheard but pretended she didn't; the surreal sensation of sitting in on Cheerios practice with Mercedes to cheer on Kurt. Making a mental catalogue of things she wanted to tell him: knowing the things that would amuse him too; the references he would get and her erratic trains of thought that he could somehow follow. Pretending for a moment that he would still want to know the things that bothered her and imagining what his responses might be; before abruptly remembering that he didn't fulfil that role in her life anymore and forcing herself to abandon them.

She had kept her promise. Rachel was there at Finn's game last night: firmly sandwiched between Tina and Matt, and surrounded by most of the club as they cheered on their team with the rest of the school.

But even there, she couldn't escape it. She'd tried her best to push it aside, to ignore the stubborn memory of _him _beside her: that smiling voice in her ear, lips that brushed her cheek in a deceptively chaste kiss, enjoying how easily he could distract her from the sports they were supposed to be watching. She determinedly blocked out the feeling of his arms wrapped around her stomach, gently pulling her back into him, as they joined the impromptu sing-along down on that same court so long ago.

Rachel had beamed a little too brightly, clapped a little too hard, whenever Finn scored and looked over in their direction. She'd dutifully fought her way through the crowd of cheering students to his side after the whistle blew, chatting happily with a dazzling smile of congratulations: the perfect picture of the proud girlfriend. This was where she was supposed to be, where she wanted to be. _This_ was her life now.

So why couldn't she shake the tricky feeling that everything was somehow backwards?

The trip to visit her Aunt's today had been a relief. A chance to escape the hall of mirrors her life was quickly becoming: a distorted maze of illusions that she was beginning to fear she would never find her way out of.

It had almost worked. Sophie had taken her and her dads out to lunch and a matinée, as was their tradition, and Rachel had clung to the comforting safety like a lifeline: she'd laughed and sung along and talked a mile-a-minute when quizzed about her future plans, unbelievably grateful to feel somewhat normal again.

But it wasn't quite enough to subdue it: the longing anticipation that nudged away at the back of her mind; a restlessness that she struggled to define. It was confusing and dangerous but just wouldn't be ignored, despite all her silent protests. It was insane. He wasn't allowed to affect her like this anymore. He'd lost that right long ago.

Yet she'd still smiled and politely waved off her dads' offer to join them for dinner with a works colleague tonight; refusing to acknowledge the skip in her heart as her fingers itched to reach for her phone. She suppressed the surge of butterflies in her stomach at the sound of his voice; trying to sound casual, even though it wasn't really in her nature.

When she'd answered the door just a little later, she recalled only the fiery jolt that stormed through her body, a glimpse of that perfect knowing smile, before he cut off her greeting and she was swept up in his touch, the front door only just closing behind them.

Everything was kind of a blur after that. Warm breath against her jaw; fractured words exchanged between heated kisses; breathless laughter as she slipped out of his hug, pulling them both through the house as they half stumbled to her room, Jesse never letting her stray out of touch of his fingers.

His jacket had been discarded at the foot of the stairs, eager hands stripping away the layers without conscious permission, instinct overtaking. Jesse tugged his arms out the sleeves impatiently as she slipped it off his shoulders, before instantly wrapping them around her again and reclaiming her lips, jerking her back to him. Her sweater had soon followed, dropped on the floor of her bedroom; his movements smooth and insistent as he easily worked the garment away from her body, leaving her in only a thin vest top. His palms skimmed her bare arms, mouth hot over hers, as he gently pushed them towards the bed.

Rachel knew she was in well over her head. Maybe they both were. A twisted addiction that kept coming back to haunt them. She knew that he was complicating her life in risky and troubling ways, amusing himself at her expense, playing her just as skilfully as before. So why was she letting him? Why couldn't she walk away? Rachel didn't understand the word of her body anymore: why it betrayed her so consistently, why it reacted so strongly to his presence. Maybe the whispers were there to be heard, deep down, but her mind was still in denial. Denial to him. To whatever this madness was.

She felt him smile into their increasingly demanding kiss as he adjusted his grip, his hand retracing its path to lightly caress up her thigh before coming to curl around her waist. He pulled away just enough to smirk at the blush on her cheeks, before leaning in to run his lips over the line of her shoulder, teeth just grazing the soft skin playfully, before slipping lower to press a trail of kisses across her collarbone with painstaking precision.

Rachel sighed shakily, grasping into his dark curls as she struggled to catch enough oxygen to think clearly, but the sensation of his mouth drawing slowly over her exposed torso was driving her to distraction, ratcheting up the temperature to an unbearable degree between them. Her shallow breath echoed in her ears, distancing her from her surroundings, from everything but the silky touch of his lips against her skin; the warmth of his body leaning into hers; the forbidden urge that stirred up through her blood. This could tumble so easily out of all control.

Jesse felt her shudder in his arms, her fingers flexing tightly in his hair, as he skimmed his mouth just above the low curve of her scoop neckline; taking full advantage of just how little fabric covered her from his gaze and touch. Her intoxicating scent filled his lungs with each burning breath but he still took his time, laying lingering kisses across her warm chest as he worked his way back up to the hollow of her throat; expertly coaxing soft moans from her lips with each brush of contact.

Rachel's hand moved down to grip the back of his neck, as if to ground herself against the fevered shivers that shot down her spine. She knew he was teasing her, and taking sly pleasure in it, but she could feel the barely restrained desire that simmered just beneath the surface of his touch. And it frightened her at how much her own was taking over her senses in response.

They couldn't do this. She wouldn't.

Jesse raised his head, mouth meeting hers again in a hot crush, and Rachel nearly lost her sense of thought entirely as she felt his hand slip under the cotton of her top, fingertips stroking delicately across her bellybutton. She gasped softly, her body tensing against his as they sunk deeper into the fierce kiss. His hands were skilled at more than piano keys and Rachel drew in a sharp breath, nearly biting down on his lip, as she felt those nimble fingers reach up to lightly trace her ribs, thumb brushing the bare skin just under the line of her bra.

_No._

She nearly moaned in reluctance when his mouth finally broke from hers, moving lower to nestle against the slope of her neck. She swallowed painfully, fighting the will of her body, as reason began to seep back into her mind with more force. She felt his hand splay gently against her stomach; the touch of his elegant fingertips just as heavenly against her skin as she remembered.

And just as daunting.

"Jesse..." she stuttered out.

"Hmm?" His mouth didn't move from her skin and she could feel the murmur press through her body in a soft vibration, running all the way to her core.

"We can't…do this."

She felt a muffled groan of objection against her neck, his fingers digging in deeper to the curve of her waist, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from echoing him. Instead she took a deep, steadying breath; trying to calm her aching heartbeat that was pounding against his.

"Don't," she whispered, features pinched in a frown. She shook her head, knowing he could feel it, the words gentle but firm. "I _can't_."

There was a beat of tense hesitation as Jesse slowly swept his lips down her throat in a last soft kiss, before pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck; a shudder rippling through his body that could have almost been a strained laugh.

"Jesus, Rach."

She could feel his breath, warm and slightly laboured, as it fell against her skin.

"Do you torture Finn like this?"

A spike tore through her heart at his name, turning her cold. She knew he felt her flinch, and quickly pushed her hand into his chest, forcing him to move off her. "Don't bring him into this."

"Why not?" he challenged, resentment breaking through his tone as he watched Rachel shove herself away from him and get to her feet. "It's always about him, isn't it?"

Her expression was hard when she turned back to face him, her gaze cutting into his but her lips unmoving in the sharp retort he'd expected. A smug gleam entered Jesse's eyes.

"But you've still not let him_ that_ close yet. Even after all this time."

Rachel stiffened but quickly recovered herself. Crossing her arms, she raised a cool eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

His mouth tilted in a tight smirk. "Go on then, tell me I'm wrong."

They were both standing now, locked in the taught impasse. Sparing him a quick glower, Rachel swiftly adopted her best poker face. "What makes you think I would ever tell you anything? None of your business is it?"

Jesse laughed but it was without humour. "I see. So all that stuff about not being ready, that was just for my benefit." A sardonic smile stirred briefly at the edge of his lips. "You were _always_ ready for him."

Her hand moved so quickly, he only caught a glimpse before he felt the sudden, biting sting that lashed across his cheekbone. Rachel's eyes were blazing when he found them again, anger replacing the flush on her cheeks, yet there was no apology in either gaze.

"What about you pressuring me to give you my virginity, when you knew all along you would betray us?" she demanded furiously. "When you knew that I meant _nothing_ to you. Just another notch on your bedpost; another conquest to brag about; proof of the profound, seduction skills of Jesse St. James. Taking method acting _very _seriously weren't you."

The mocking in her voice gave way to unconcealed bitterness. "How could you do that? Were you really so flippant about destroying my heart?" She shook her head to herself, voice hard with self reproach. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to think you were ever capable of change; that you were anything but selfish."

Her eyes flashed up to his, burning with accusation; old wounds breaking to the surface and escaping her mouth before she could stop them. A cold smile crossed her lips. "Can't imagine you filled _Shelby_ in on that little development."

Dead silence echoed in the wake of her words. Jesse felt every muscle in his body tense, his heart clench sorely in his ribcage, but his face remained impassive.

"Rachel…"

It was almost a warning, but she was in no mood to take heed. Her lips curved in a shadow of a laugh as she backed a step away from him.

"Did you think I wouldn't work it out someday? The timing? It was a rather big coincidence, don't you think?"

His silence struck into her chest like a physical blow, icy and painful, but she forced herself not to react to it. She searched his expression but it was carefully controlled, giving little away.

Of course she had formed her suspicions over the months. During all those long, dark nights when she had lain awake and replayed every tortured twist of their relationship over and over again, desperately searching for a sign she'd missed, for the quantifiable moment when it had all gone so suddenly wrong. Looking back, the links had been there from the beginning; but she took a long time to put it together. Or maybe she was simply reluctant to see it. It all came back to Vocal Adrenaline in the end, tangled ties of loyalty, but it was possibly much closer to home than she'd ever believed before.

She _still _didn't want to believe it.

But he had never been here to confront. She'd never had the chance to put her ropey theory to the test, to look him in the face and hear it from his lips: to let him deny it, spin fresh lies, or try to give his side of the story. And so Rachel had determinedly put the lingering doubt behind her; done her best to forget about it and nearly succeeded. Until now.

It was one thing to suspect. Confirmation was something else entirely.

His eyes were guarded but not closed off completely – not yet. Yet they may as well of been for all the sense she could make of the maelstrom of emotion she glimpsed in them. Silent conflict creased the edges of those dark pools, tightening the corners of his mouth; fighting over words he was unwilling to speak. It wasn't often someone wrong-footed Jesse, and she took a hollow sense of pride in the small victory.

"It was all her idea wasn't it?"

Jesse hesitated, for once caught off guard, though it barely flickered on his face. Ingrained loyalty to his old mentor bubbled through his thoughts, and for a moment he thought of attempting to bluff his way out of the dangerous confrontation. Yet something told him the effort would be fruitless.

Perhaps he'd had this coming for a long time. It was a calculated risk he'd taken by coming back. Still, he'd always arrogantly assumed that if it did eventually out, it would happen on _his _terms. But as usual, Rachel had taken things into her own hands; determined to do things her way, no matter the damage, and he knew there was no easy way off the hook now.

He looked her over shrewdly, assessing the language of her body and quiet demand in her voice; weighing his options. Time seemed to splinter into a thousand different paths before suddenly converging back into a single line. _Screw it_, he decided; gripped with a frustrated sense of recklessness. He was through taking bullets for Shelby.

The silence was reaching breaking point when he finally spoke, voice calm and flat, betraying nothing of his own thoughts.

"Yes."

He saw something tear through Rachel's eyes at his reluctant revelation. He swallowed hard but otherwise didn't flinch. "She asked me to get close to you. Gain your trust."

The surrendered truth lay heavy in the air between them. He waited, knowing the next move was hers and that he couldn't force her. Rachel held his eyes across the floor, a sharp intensity in those familiar depths as they searched his, as if trying to uncover the lie in his words. He couldn't tell if she was relieved or heartbroken at what she found, but she quickly covered it with a skillfulness he couldn't help but admire.

"And after you'd forced me to listen to that tape…"

He shrugged slightly. "Go back to Vocal Adrenaline. Let you two find each other."

Rachel nodded. He noted with some surprise that she didn't sound mad; in fact she sounded almost clinical. Like a forensic expert re-examining the mangled remains of a collision in the light of full facts. She didn't shout, didn't cry, didn't make a move to strike out again. Jesse found himself almost wishing she would, but the burn from her hand throbbed across his cheek in quick objection.

She stood perfectly still: arms folded across her chest, hiding her hands that were clenched into tight fists; the nails that were cutting into her palms, taking the brunt of the emotions she wouldn't let cross her face. She turned her head thoughtfully, her gaze dropping from his for the first time.

"You knew how I felt about it, but you pushed me. You told me I was ready. And you know what? I believed you." A sad smile ghosted over her lips before they quickly hardened into a thin line. "The plan worked perfectly didn't it? Except that when she found me, she realised she didn't want me."

"That's not –"

"What? True?" she snapped suddenly. "What do you know? You weren't there, Jesse!"

_Yes I was_.

He caught the words a split second before they slipped from his tongue, knowing they would only be an unnecessary provocation right now. Fair enough, Jesse may not have been there at the end of their little familial drama, but he was there at the beginning.

'_Miss Corcoran? I'm Rachel Berry. I'm your daughter.'_

With those words, the stage curtain should have fallen on them. Things had finally come full circle. His part was officially done, objective achieved; he was at last free to walk away from the increasingly messy tangle he had been caught up in.

His act with Rachel Berry was over; it was _their_ story now.

Yet, while the rest of his team looked between themselves in confusion at the unexpected twist they were witnessing, exchanging glances of incredulity at New Directions daring to spy on them, Jesse found himself unable to look away from _her_. The girl who had just gate-crashed their rehearsal in such typically theatrical style, as only she could pull off.

He almost smiled. She certainly knew how to make an entrance.

He found he could only watch, transfixed, as Rachel commanded the attention of that entire room; effortlessly claiming centre stage with a familiar, unconscious grace that tugged deep in his chest. The memory of their last cruel encounter played through his mind before he quickly swiped it away. He truly hadn't expected her to want to step anywhere near him and Vocal Adrenaline again anytime soon, and he couldn't help but wonder what had drawn her here in the first place; what had tempted her back into the lion's den. Then again, he'd learnt that Rachel Berry was surprising by nature.

Ridiculous Gaga costume notwithstanding, it was one of the most tense moments of Jesse's life. He was sitting a mere row away from her: if she turned her head only slightly, she would have found his silent gaze locked on her, expression unguarded and all the truth she deserved burning in his eyes. The boy behind the show face laid bare for her sole witness – just for a single, fleeting moment.

But she didn't. Thankfully.

Her wide eyes were only for the woman on stage, her face full of confused questions and tentative hope. In unique contrast, she didn't even try to hide behind a cool façade; didn't attempt to put on an act for the benefit of their audience. There was only honest, unprotected emotion written across those beautiful features for everyone to see.

It was all wrong. How could she take such weakness and somehow turn it into strength? It was something he'd never quite managed to fathom out about her. Jesse winced inwardly at the sight of that same vulnerable dignity that had so nearly undone him, back in McKinley's parking lot.

He felt a knot form in his stomach as the emotional repercussions of what he'd set in motion settled briefly on his mind, before he firmly reminded himself that it was nothing to do with him anymore.

Jesse's gaze broke from Rachel to find the woman who had started it all. It was up to Shelby now. She finally had it: everything she had confided in him about; everything she'd said she wanted; everything he had worked and sacrificed his pride and ego to make happen. It was all standing right there in front of her at the edge of that stage, nervously waiting for her response.

Everything he'd given up.

Setting his jaw, Jesse instantly silenced the voice that quietly insisted that this wasn't to be their last scene together. He looked to Shelby, the words whispering through his mind, barely conscious yet glaring fiercely in his dark eyes. _Don't screw this up._

Roughly pushing the memory back down, he forced himself not to rise to the bait. Tension snapped like jumping flames between them yet nether looked away. There was a hard, bitter gleam in Rachel's stare; something he still wasn't entirely used to seeing in her.

"Bit of an anti-climax wasn't it?" she said, almost conversationally. "All that trouble to find me, all that effort to trick me into learning the truth, only for her to decide that I wasn't what she wanted after all." A cold edge slipped into her voice, turning up the corners of her usually warm lips. "Not the _fresh start_ she was looking for."

"That's not fair."

He wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to defend Shelby; except that their crimes were so interwoven, he almost felt it was impossible not to.

"Isn't it?" she demanded sharply. "Trust me, she couldn't have made her feelings any clearer than if she'd got up on stage and_ sung_ them aloud for everyone's entertainment!" Rachel flung out a hand in dramatic emphasis, before quickly pulling it back into the protective fold of her arms. Her chest tightened, air painful in her lungs, as the tumble of old memories mixed and churned inside her thoughts: volatile, confused and still unhealed.

'_This was supposed to feel good. We were supposed to have some sort of slow motion run into each other's arms. This is all wrong.'_

Furiously blinking her eyes clear, she forced her voice level again. "When it came down to it, she wanted nothing to do with me if she couldn't have it on her terms."

Jesse fought the urge to sigh. His brow furrowed slightly in frustration, wondering how the hell he'd ended up here, struggling to reconcile two sides of such a duplicitous story; one that he was never meant to have been a part of in the first place.

"It wasn't like it was an easy situation for her either, Rachel. It wasn't as if she went into it on a whim or anything." The words came across a bit blunter than he'd intended. "When she gave me that tape, she just…wanted to know you."

"No, she didn't."

The soft retort cut through the quiet like a blade, devastating in its simplicity. She looked up to meet his eyes, and for a moment she looked almost defeated; lost in a gulf of dark emotions and aimless anger.

"She wanted a daughter. She wanted this instant bond and magic moment. She wanted a _family_." Rachel lifted her shoulders in a weak shrug, a tremble breaking through her voice, so faint he nearly missed it altogether. "I was just a stranger."

Jesse felt something twist inside his chest, clawing through him in brutal protest, but there was nothing he could say. So he just let her talk.

Rachel finally averted her eyes away from him, speaking quietly to the room as she tried to swallow down the sour burn in her throat. "I was supposed to bring something to her; _fulfil _her life in some way; satisfy _her _needs." She knew her voice was betraying her but she was helpless to stop it; the assault of memories too close to the surface to control. "She never thought of anything working the other way around. She didn't even try."

"Maybe she just thought it was for the best. For both of you."

He took a tentative step forward, watching her closely, as if approaching an unpredictable force of nature. Her body tensed visibly but she didn't retreat further. Her face was still turned away, locked inside private turmoil.

'_It's too late for us. I just think that anything we share right now is just going to be confusing for you.'_

"I think I wanted to believe that too." Rachel pressed her lips together, fighting back the hurt that echoed across her mind like a taunting whisper; the tears she wouldn't let fall. Not this time. "But it doesn't change the fact that she bent all the rules to find me, not caring whose heart she stepped on, and then when things didn't play out how she imagined – she bailed."

Jesse shook his head, voice low but adamant. "It wasn't like that."

"I suppose you would know, wouldn't you?" she shot back. "The truth is that when the dream became a reality, she suddenly couldn't deal. She wanted out."

"She cared, Rachel. And yes, I do know that." He held her glare calmly, laying a quiet authority over his words. "Never being there for you…she said it was the only thing she ever regretted."

There was quiet for a moment as hesitation warred briefly over Rachel's features.

"Just not enough I guess," she muttered softly. "Not enough to accept me as I am now: not her baby anymore but a person. No, that would be too much work."

Her eyes fell to the floor between them: a gaping No-Man's land that just couldn't be breached.

"She never gave me a chance to decide how I felt. Not that it made any difference; she'd already made up her mind." Rachel's expression hardened. "Still, she got her second chance in the end. She got Quinn's little girl."

Jesse raised an eyebrow.

He'd known that Shelby had adopted shortly after Regionals, and his heart had panged for Rachel. A rash and rebellious part of him had briefly toyed with the idea of trying to get in touch, but the impulse had been quickly stamped out. Everything was still too raw and complicated, and he seriously doubted Rachel wanted anything to do with him ever again. He didn't want to salt any more wounds.

He'd had to watch his tongue for days, for fear he would say something he would regret to their coach; sparking a confrontation that would be hardly productive to winning Nationals. He couldn't be sure, but she'd seemed to sense his reluctance to engage, and outside of rehearsals she'd pretty much left him to his own devices for the following few weeks.

Neither openly acknowledged it, but the whole affair had gradually become an unspoken rift; a strain on their relationship that never quite recovered. Yet both remained fiercely professional to the core; they were still working together towards a common goal and in the chaos of the rush to Nationals, it meant that it all kind of got pushed to one side.

Still, he didn't know it was Quinn's baby. Life had a funny sense of irony sometimes.

Rachel didn't notice his reaction, still absently studying her bedroom carpet. She almost shrugged, a tight smile quirking her lips for a moment. "Even I didn't see that coming, but it seems fitting doesn't it? She'll finally get that _perfect _connection; that special mother-daughter relationship that she missed out on. That's all that ever really mattered in the end, isn't it? It was always just about her."

Jesse frowned at the pain in her voice, and thought, not for the first time, that Rachel would have been so much better off if he and Shelby had never come into her life; knotting things up with their own convoluted webs of motives.

But they had. And she was right: he was too selfish to let her go now.

"She never wanted to hurt you, Rachel."

A bitter smile twisted her lips. "I seem to recall you saying the same thing. Funny how fast idle words are forgotten; how quick you both turn on others when it suits you."

She glanced up, fixing him with an astute glare that would easily break any less skilled performer. But Jesse's expression didn't even falter.

"She trained you well, didn't she? Her favourite protégée: who pulled off his part flawlessly and walked away unscathed. You both had such a penchant for empty promises and easy heartbreak; always looking out for yourselves at the end of the day." Rachel laughed softly, but the sound was hollow; broken. "She must have been so proud."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, refusing to back away from the challenge despite the fact he couldn't deny the layer of truth in her words.

Jesse had always lived by a somewhat Machiavellian code of conduct. He knew how to play the political game; how to perfect subtle manipulations to get what he wanted; how to survive and propel himself forward at the expense of others. It was a skill he had been honing all his life. But somehow, getting called out on it by Rachel sparked some resentment deep inside him; a defensive anger that felt almost like _guilt_.

How had what'd started out as a careless favour, somehow turned into his greatest deception? At that moment, Jesse cursed Shelby for ever putting him in this unforeseeable position; hated himself for ever being so cavalier about his role within this bitter triangle of messy feelings.

Jesse ran a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of frustration. None of this was meant to happen; none of this had panned out like they'd anticipated. Rachel and Shelby were meant to forge a connection that justified all the effort he had put into his performance, and he was meant to disappear to L.A. and never glance back; reflecting on the whole experience as nothing but an amusing anecdote.

The confusion was irritating him so he fell back to an emotion he could control. He met Rachel's eye with a sharp scowl.

"Don't make assumptions you don't understand. She signed a _contract_. Approaching you herself was never an option."

Rachel bristled at the condescension in his tone. "She could have waited," she pointed out. "She could have taken the time to make sure it was what she actually wanted. Maybe she could have spared us all this utter _train-wreck,"_ she retorted with growing volume, throwing her arms out.

She didn't give him a chance to respond, her dramatic nature getting the better of her. "She used you too. Doesn't that bother you? You were nothing more than a ploy in her scheme; an expendable distraction," she taunted, lashing out with an anger raw enough to draw blood. "She used you to find me and you never thought twice about helping her force her way into my life. You were just as selfish as each other. And then when it was over, when she didn't need you anymore, you simply dropped me – just like she did. A hell of a double act."

The words left a sour taste in the air. When it became clear he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of a visible reaction, Rachel plunged deeper, powerless to pull back.

"It was all a lie from the beginning; every word that fell from your mouth, just part of a carefully planned script for your little drama." She restrained a strange desire to laugh. "They warned me, you know. Everyone said you were in it for all the wrong reasons; that you were only playing me. But I still let you in. I still let you break my heart."

Her fingernails were cutting white crescents into her bare arms, but she didn't release his gaze. "Such an easy target, wasn't I? You had me_ so_ convinced." Her voice dropped lower but the fire burned harder in her eyes; daring him to defend his actions. "Did it ever mean _anything _to you? Was any of it real?"

Jesse clenched his jaw almost painfully, but held his silence. He couldn't look away from the heated accusation in her stare; from everything that was there reflecting back at him. Like a mirror that confronted him with the worst shadows in his soul.

Again, he could sense her trying to read the truth in his eyes; studying him with that unnerving ability of hers. Jesse found himself torn between breaking contact to better protect his guard, and the dangerous urge to drop it altogether.

Rachel shook her head slowly. "I don't understand. Why didn't you just tell me and have done with it?"

"It wasn't my place to tell you."

"It wasn't your place at _all_," she protested harshly. "You had no right. Why did you ever agree to go along with it?"

Jesse mentally grimaced as the fateful conversation in Shelby's car flashed through his mind. He decided to skirt over the considerably less noble motives behind his compliance.

"Shelby trusted me," he admitted finally. "I felt like I owed her."

"_I_ trusted you."

He watched as Rachel instantly winced, like she wished she could take the whisper back. Her gaze broke from his, and he swallowed hard against the violent ache that kicked inside his chest; recoiling away from the blow of those few, simple words.

He'd known. Of course he had. But he'd buried the uncomfortable truth away; drowned it under tides of ruthless ambition and easy arrogance; worn it down until he could convince himself it didn't matter at all. He should've felt pleased really: it was what he'd set out to accomplish after all. Testament to his talent.

Loyalty to Shelby and Vocal Adrenaline had always come first. It was all he'd known. They were his ticket to success – breaking one girl's trust didn't weigh anything against that. But somewhere along the way, Rachel's value had subtly shifted, tipping the scales of Jesse's ordered world into chaos.

The reproach in her words was sorely evident: he'd chosen to honour his agreement with Shelby over his relationship with Rachel. And she was right.

Jesse sighed, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I can't speak for Shelby, Rachel. She can fight her own battles. But I know that she had her reasons for doing what she did. You may not like it, but it doesn't make her a bad person. She isn't the villain of the piece, no matter how badly you want to make her one. Things are never that black and white once you get out in the real world."

Rachel stiffened but didn't turn back to face him. She cast her eyes thoughtfully over the _Les Misérables_ poster on her bedroom wall, carefully delving through the double layer in his verse: the complex notes and hidden meanings that made up the spoken songs they communicated in.

"Maybe," she conceded, before smiling sadly to herself. "Then again, maybe some people are just unredeemable."

The familiar words tore through them both, yet neither acknowledged it.

"I guess I should have realised how little I meant to you. I should have suspected sooner that our relationship was based on nothing but a riddle of lies; should have seen the puppeteer behind the strings."

She looked over and met his gaze with quiet defiance.

"I mean, it took – what? A whole _three days_ after that tape for you to throw everything back in my face; to show your true colours and revert to form. Didn't waste any time, did you?" Her voice lowered, regret tightening behind her eyes. "I should have listened to the others. I should have never given you the chance to break me."

The memory stung through her mind, catching her unprepared. A thorn twist that was embedded too deep to heal completely. "She may have told you to start it, but nothing excuses how you ended it." She caught his expression and felt a touch of vindicated satisfaction at the twinge that crossed his face. "It was low…even for you."

Jesse glanced away from her, a subtle frown on his features as he fought through his own thoughts. Granted, it wasn't exactly a shining moment, but it wasn't as if he'd had a choice. New Directions were never going to win Regionals, and he wasn't prepared to risk his future on a whim. That had never been a part of the plan. His relentless ambition had always defined him – his dreams were worth more than anything and he refused to compromise them for anyone. That just wasn't who Jesse was.

Rachel, of all people, should've understood that about him. It was a fundamental truth about them both, and he was sure she would have made the same call if it were her dreams on the line.

A leader was a precarious position at the best of times. Even though she should have appreciated that from her role within New Directions, the truth was that they were worlds apart in some ways. Yes, she had the responsibility of motivating, guiding and pulling her team to the top, but it was a job that no-one had ever really challenged her on before.

Vocal Adrenaline was a whole other level. Competition and rival ambition was fierce, a clash of egos and temper on a sometimes epic scale. No-one had yet bothered to fight Rachel for that limelight, but for Jesse he knew that it required a subtle balance; a constant battle to retain respect and superiority. It was easy to navigate the ripping currents when you were riding the crest of the wave, but the second you slipped under, they could so quickly be the end of you. It was an underlying risk that he'd almost relished: a true test of skill and charisma that he'd excelled at to such a degree that not even his brief abandonment had threatened his position seriously.

Not that there hadn't been a price to pay.

He'd known it was coming but somehow he'd hoped that it would stop with New Directions; that they wouldn't try to push him further, force him to burn that last bridge. But they were _his_ team after all – and they had learnt from the best.

And so he'd made the call, said his line and plastered that traitorous smile on his face as he waved her onto their stage for one last time. The cost of his reparation.

He'd never had a choice. Everything had a hierarchy; rules and expectations that had to be abided by. He had to re-establish his authority beyond question; squash rumours of weakness before they could start, particularly about Rachel. Everyone knew that about him. Jesse St. James didn't _fall_. Especially not for a girl like her; someone they considered so far below them.

He had to prove himself to his team. Show that he was still a true blooded member; that he was still the boy they had known and followed all those years. He had to reclaim his rightful place as a leader and national champion; whatever it took. Appearances were everything in his world and Jesse had learned to live in masks and show faces very quickly in life; so much so that it became hard to draw the line sometimes. A line that Rachel Berry had come very close to crossing, without even realising.

He had to prove it to himself. Prove that she hadn't cracked his defences; that she hadn't become a fatal weakness. Prove to himself that he could turn his back and walk away, move on with the rest of his predictably successful life; her presence nothing but a vague memory at the back of his mind.

So he'd thrown her down at their mercy with a stubborn, selfish resolve. He chose his team and his future like he had always done; chosen to stand and watch that last glimmer of warmth fade from her eyes: something that had been strong enough to survive his turncoat performance; something that had brought her running across that parking lot with an unabashed smile of relief.

Something that had taken him almost a year to accept the true worth of.

Rachel studied him in his silence: the tense lines of his body and dark clouds in his eyes, so familiar yet so much harder than she remembered. Maybe she wasn't the only one who had done some rough growing up.

"Why did you come back?"

A strange, wistful smile touched his lips for the briefest of moments. Rachel frowned, struggling with her own confusion; trying to make sense of the discordant music between her head and her heart.

A sudden thought struck through her mind like whiplash. Her eyes widened before abruptly narrowing with incredulity. "Did _she_ ask you to come here? Is she the reason for this little trip down memory lane? Still doing her dirty work."

Jesse's gaze found hers, cool and restrained against her biting anger.

"No," he said quietly. His reasons were his own this time.

"Why should I believe you?" she challenged. But he could tell that she did, albeit reluctantly. "I wouldn't put anything past either of you. It's not like she hasn't hidden behind pawns before." Rachel laid a mocking emphasis on the insult, needling his ego; the one vulnerability she knew of.

"I haven't spoken to Shelby in months."

It wasn't a lie. Jesse had lost touch with his old coach since college; both of them letting the physical distance deepen their estrangement, almost by mutual, unspoken agreement. He watched as surprise flickered briefly across her expression, before settling into a grim smile.

"Well, that makes two of us I guess." Rachel looked away, letting her gaze drift back across her rumpled bed covers but not really seeing it. "Anyway, she's busy enjoying her real family. Being the mom she always wanted to be. Wouldn't want to intrude."

"You might feel differently one day," he reasoned slowly, not sure what else he could say that could possibly make amends for all the wronged pain she had carried for the past year. The scars he had helped inflict. "Things can change."

Rachel shook her head. "No. She made it very evident that our lives are too separate; that we're better off out of each others worlds. She just figured it out a little late." She stared down at the carpet under her feet, body cold and closed off. "Why would I ever want to invite that deceit and heartache back into my life? Especially when I know I'm not really wanted." Her voice turned stony with resolve. "She was right. It was a mistake. _All_ of it."

She missed the subtle flex of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes, as the impact of the pointed words settled between them. A vain wish that was out of either's power to grant. They couldn't undo what had passed; couldn't rewrite history. They were a part of each other's stories now, whether they liked it or not.

He was all too aware that she desperately wished he had never happened to her life; believed that everything they'd shared had been purely for show: only a professional veneer that covered the true manipulations at work underneath. And she had all the justification in the world to think so.

Except for the one thing he would never admit: that somewhere between the drama and theatrics; somewhere in the midst of the quiet and insignificant moments stolen behind the scenes; hidden within unconscious gestures and easy smiles – life had come to imitate art for Jesse.

His gaze swept over her form before narrowing softly on her averted face, silently asking her to meet his eyes. "You have your dads." He carefully held the touch of bitterness from his voice as he gently reminded her of just how lucky she actually was. "Isn't that enough?"

"It was_ always_ enough," she corrected sharply. A faint frown creased her expression before she quickly turned her face away. "Doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

"Rachel…" The impulse was too strong and he stepped forward without thinking, reaching out for her.

She flinched away from his touch as if it were a physical pain. He immediately dropped his hand and could only watch as she turned her back to him; the planes of her shoulders stiff and unforgiving.

"Just go, Jesse."

The quiet words stretched into the silence, damning and final. She heard him hesitate and for a second she thought he was going to refuse, but then she felt him move; crossing to her door in a few quick strides. Rachel stayed rooted to the spot, not daring to look up, until she was absolutely certain she was once more alone in the empty house.

She took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to keep her head above the waves of water that surged up through her chest. Whoever said that the truth was meant to bring you peace of mind, be cathartic for the soul, must have been seriously deluded. Rachel felt utterly lost; like a stranger inside her own mind.

Words echoed around the now quiet bedroom, bringing with them a seeping coldness that slowly crept under her skin: angry accusations and confused demands; bitter taunts and veiled truths; painful memories dragged up and ripped apart until there was nothing left. Every fabrication of their relationship torn down and revealed as the cruel sham that it was.

It had been a confrontation that was well overdue, but Rachel didn't feel at all how she expected she would. She felt no closure; no relief; no sense of justice or clarifying epiphany. She felt exhausted, conflicted, cheated and unsatisfied. She felt broken. Still.

How could so much have been said, yet even more remained unspoken?

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she went over to her chest of drawers and knelt down. Sliding open the bottom one, she rummaged around in the contents; digging down, until from amongst the old shirts and pyjamas, she carefully pulled out a small cassette.

_From mother to daughter._

Rachel turned the case over slowly in her fingers, running her thumb across the hand-written message that had once meant so much.

She had wanted to throw it away so many times, but could never quite bring herself to. She hadn't listened to it in months, she wasn't sure she ever wanted to again, but she couldn't quite bear not to have the option. To listen once more to her beautiful voice and sing along softly; to close her eyes and remember back and maybe imagine, just for a moment, if things were different. She swallowed heavily, her fingertips cutting into the sharp edges.

The tape Shelby had slipped to her via Jesse. The reason behind the whole charade: his lies and his love and his betrayal. She studied the simple object almost thoughtfully, wondering how something so small could have screwed up her life so much. Finally, with a sigh, she laid it gently back in the drawer.

When her dads arrived home a few hours later, Rachel tackled them at the bottom of the stairs in a hug that was so hard and so long, that by the end they were quite convinced she had something terrible to tell them. Yet their daughter only laughed brokenly at their questions, bright eyes shimmering, before burying herself back in their embrace. Her dads exchanged a look of bemused concern over her head. Still, they knew how prone to the dramatic their daughter was, and so they only continued to stroke her hair and hold her close; simply being there for her like they had done all her life.

Even so, after she'd calmed down, it took her a good hour to convince them she wasn't in some sort of trouble, traumatised or pregnant.

**~o~**

* * *

**AN**: This story has actually become an addiction; it's not good for my health. Sleep deprivation is becoming an issue. I'm still not over London yet! _Wicked_ was absolutely epic; it left me kind of speechless! I think I've found my new favourite musical :) I would happily move to the West End just to get to go to the theatre every night. Anyway, enough of my gushing. So just to clarify, I've kept the sequence of events as it was originally intended to air: i.e "Funk" happened before "Theatricality". I was annoyed that they decided to switch them in the first place, and consequently having to cut all of Jesse's scenes in that episode. Not cool, Fox. Now, I know that with the switch and just general lack of consistency that makes _Glee_ such a frustrating joy to watch, the issue of how much Rachel actually learned about the true circumstances of Jesse's role was left pretty open and ambiguous. This is simply my interpretation.

Let me know what you think? It makes it all worth it :) Thanks for reading.

Now, I kinda have to catch up on over a week's worth of sleep, so excuse me while I go over and collapse in the corner.


	7. Chapter 7

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

_In a very unusual way, one time I needed you  
In a very unusual way, you were my friend  
Maybe it lasted a day, maybe it lasted an hour  
But somehow it will never end_

As the notes of the bittersweet song filled her bedroom, Rachel let out a trembling sigh and drew her knees up to her chest. The muted sunlight pushed through her closed curtains, giving the air a dull golden tint, framing the scene in sepia tones as she curled up in the middle of her bed.

With a soft frown, she shifted and tilted her head away from the window. She didn't want to see the sun. Not today. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut: sinking into the darkness until she could picture the storm clouds frothing through the sky like grey surf on violent waves; until she could almost hear the rain lashing against the panes; until she could convince herself the weather outside was as cruel and hopeless as the ache that gripped her whole body.

_In a very unusual way, I think I'm in love with you  
In a very unusual way, I want to cry_

She was allowed one day. That was what she had told herself. One day to indulge; to fantasize and bend the outside world to her whim, just to complete the finishing touches to her melancholy mood. One day to mourn.

To mourn _what _exactly, she wasn't entirely sure.

A lie? A heartless illusion? She didn't even know anymore. With a deep breath, she hugged her legs closer and rested her cheek across her knees, not bothering to brush aside the stray locks of hair that fell over her eyes. What was she supposed to think? After all, he hadn't even tried to contradict her accusations; hadn't made any effort to convince her otherwise.

'_Was any of it real?'_

Silence. That was all he ever gave her. It was the heaviest, deepest, loudest silence she had ever felt; the last line of defence for the conflicted actors they were – but Rachel needed something more. He'd given her answers to everything but himself. The endless mystery of a personality that constantly evaded her; wreathed in so many protective masks and easy manipulations, that Rachel doubted she would ever see the truth of his heart.

And if it was only ever an empty pretence, a beautiful deception – just what was she grieving? The broken promise of a love that had never been anything more than a means to an end? The ever tormenting heartbreak of what _might_ have been? It was a dangerous path to slip down, but Rachel couldn't find it in her to care right now.

She found herself playing through that moment in the music store over and over again, as if by some kind of magic she could fall right through her memories and somehow stop the whole cursed affair before it ever began. She could have walked away, fought against the enticing pull of his song, turned on her heel and listened to reason, instead of blindly following him into the dark woods of their own grim fairytale.

But no matter how many times she delved through the scene, the once familiar girl at the piano just wouldn't listen. Her eyes were still lost in his, her voice revealing the words that would soon come to define them both, the quietly smug smile on his lips pulling a tentative one from hers; ever blissfully naïve as she prepared to lay her soul bare to the one boy who would forever scar it.

Rachel tried reaching out to her: to turn her away; to save her from the void of heartache she was opening up; to warn her of the selfish lies and betrayal that lay behind that mesmerizing voice and seducing façade.

But each time the girl only looked up, meeting her with a soft smile before she could ever reach her. It was only a glimpse, but the sad, knowing whisper in her eyes stopped Rachel every time. '_It's worth it.'_

Was it? The painful question probed through her rational mind, but the answer wasn't to be found there. She pressed her eyes closed and curled tighter into herself, as if she could physically crush the doubt and anger out of her body.

_Something inside me goes weak  
Something inside me surrenders  
And you're the reason why  
You're the reason why_

The truth was that she probably couldn't have prevented their story from unfolding in some way, even if she had tried. A shudder of resentment hardened her shoulders, clenching her fingers. He was acting on orders after all. She knew first hand that there was no denying Jesse's skill or dedication; he would have found a way into her life regardless. Anything for Shelby.

It had always been about her. The woman behind every false smile and tender touch he had ever given Rachel. The person who had told him to seduce and betray her own daughter. The one he had gone back to; the one who he trusted with his future.

Her mother.

The words sounded mocking even in her head. A spiteful anger sparked in her eyes, before they slowly dulled under a cloud of pain. She'd done this to all of them: thrown their worlds together, tangled their hearts in a web of deceit, before carelessly ripping them apart without a second thought. And for what?

Nothing, she answered herself bitterly. It was all for _nothing_.

Was she just supposed to forget any of it ever happened? Forgive and move on? Act like everything was back to normal? Were her trust and love just unfortunate causalities of the whole sorry tale; innocent civilians caught in the cross-fire?

She shook her head in quiet despair. How could her life have unravelled so badly, all at the hands of a person who was meant to care about her: one who had claimed she only wanted to make a connection she had always regretted losing; someone who was supposed to protect her heart – not use it to further her own ends. Not toy with it until it broke apart.

Rachel breathed out shakily. Did she ever stop to think about the consequences of what she was orchestrating? Did she ever consider for one moment that there were other lives involved besides her own? Of course, perhaps she just never anticipated that her star student would be quite so convincing.

Maybe they were all just players in the end, stumbling through an unscripted series of events that conspired to defy every careful plan they'd once held. And now it seemed that the performance had ended, her fellow actors taken their bow and left the stage, leaving Rachel alone in an empty spotlight, lost in silence as she desperately tried to remember the world outside the fantasy.

_In a very unusual way, I owe what I am to you  
Though at times it appears I won't stay, I never go_

Rachel whispered the words under her breath, swallowing down the catch in her voice before falling quiet under the music once more. Sometimes she wondered who she would have been if Shelby had never decided to find her, never conscripted Jesse into her elaborate charade; if their paths had never crossed and parted in the shattering ways they had.

Would she still be so willing to trust, so easily influenced and wounded, still so determinedly sure of what she wanted. What if that seed of jaded anger had never taken root in her soul; hardening her heart against the world and stripping the innocence from her eyes.

Perhaps she had always been a bit too over emotional; too eager to give away her love; too quick to grant others the power to break her. Maybe it was a lesson she needed to learn. A weakness that she should be grateful had been beaten out of her. She would just have to learn to live with the scars.

Jesse certainly wasn't the first person to hurt her, but he had somehow managed to cut her the deepest.

Maybe she would never know what had been real or not with him, the lines now too blurred and faded to distinguish anymore. He'd been given a part, a role he needed to fulfil, and he had used every trick in the book to pull it off. Every glance, every laugh, every lingering touch and leading word – everything he'd done, he'd done for Shelby. Because it was what was required of him.

How much of the boy had lived in his stage character, there was no way to tell.

She had only ever been a temporary project. An amusing distraction to him and a regretful mistake to Shelby. Her love reduced to a traded commodity that had ultimately been thrown to the wolves.

And yet…he'd come back.

Rachel winced as the confusion crashed and surged at the back of her mind; a frantic force that refused to settle, churning over and over until she felt sick.

Memories slipped between her painful breaths, attacking her too quickly for her emotions to keep up. The fire of his forbidden touch racing through her veins; laughing as they tumbled ungracefully to the floor of the roller disco; his fingers tangled loosely in hers; the angry betrayal in his eyes, even as his body gripped her closer than the routine strictly demanded; his smile pressed into her hair; _'Break it like you broke my heart'_; _'You broke mine first'; _the sound of their duetting voices echoing around that dark theatre, full of sorrow and promise; _'Tell me he's what you want'; _the wet crunch of egg shells cracking over her head; ultimatums and accusations; evening rides back to her house, quiet moments that never lasted long enough; '_I loved you'_.

How was she supposed to understand any of it? What did she have left to trust? Tears burned hot in her eyes, threatening to spill over in a flood of helpless frustration.

_In a very unusual way  
You've made me whole_

As the final verse faded away with the music, Rachel felt the first drop of salty rain slip down her cheek. Blinking quickly, she turned her head and buried her face into her knees, muffling the broken sobs that tried to escape her chest.

She didn't know how long she sat there. Time ebbed like a river around her, shaping the surrounding landscape but never quite touching her skin. The sun shifted through the sky, chasing the shadows that danced over her floor. There was a tentative knock on her locked door, which went unanswered and wasn't pursued. And still the songs played on.

Lyrics she knew by heart; voices that she had grown up to; beautiful compositions that told some of the greatest and saddest stories ever to grace the stage. Joy and heartbreak, betrayal and sacrifice, loss and redemption: every twist of love's journey explored again and again in endlessly diverse ways.

This was Rachel's world: where she turned for comfort without questions; understanding without judgement. The only place she was free to acknowledge the pain that she could never admit out loud.

And so she listened, letting the familiar music weave a soundtrack through her thoughts; a safe refuge that she could climb back to whenever she felt the waters below threatening to drown her. Eyes shut tight, she sang along softly with each shared word, taking strength from the power of their voices; losing herself in the grief of famous lovers, hiding her own; pretending for a moment that the damp streaks on her face and stinging in her throat were only the result of a deep connection to such moving songs. Professional empathy: it was the key to all great performers after all.

But to cry your heart out is exhausting work, physically and emotionally, and eventually you have to find the will to save yourself.

When her playlist reached the opening notes of '_Don't Cry For Me Argentina', _Rachel knew she'd hit her limit. With fresh tears blurring her vision, she stretched out a clumsy hand to her laptop and fumbled to stop the music. Silence reigned once more, and she bore it for as long as she could stand to. Finally, with a weary sigh, she began to slowly uncoil her tense limbs. Rubbing a hand across her eyes, she shook her head and tried to get a grip on herself; to somehow pull herself back into the living world.

But she was so tired; sore and out of breath from fighting the consuming torrents that had just torn through her body, wave after crushing wave. The urge to burrow back into bed and seek out the ignorant bliss of sleep was very tempting. Yet Rachel forced herself to move, dragging her protesting limbs across the mattress until she could place her feet on the floor.

It was time to get her life back.

She knew she should really go downstairs, show her face and placate their concerns. She hated making her dads worry about her; it wasn't fair. But even as she felt the prickles of guilt touch her mind, a frown settled over her features. Her eyes flickered to the door in reluctant hesitation.

The second she stepped outside, the performance would begin all over again: endless audiences to appease and win over with the same perfected routine of bright smiles and persistent determination. It was a persona she knew like her own skin, but she didn't want to be Rachel Berry right now. So many things to so many people: a daughter; a girlfriend; a leader; a nobody; a drama queen; a subject of ridicule; a star in the making.

A lover and a liar.

She pinched her eyes shut. For once, she just wanted to be Rachel. Complete with all her selfish flaws and weaknesses, confusion and fears. A girl no-one demanded anything from, with no expectations to meet or disappoint. She wasn't sure she had the energy left to be anything else – not today. The stage would always be a home to her, but the show would just have to run without her for a little while longer.

She was in no fit state to be seen just now anyway. Rachel ran a hand through her tangled hair, pushing it behind her ear with a grimace as she caught a glance of her reflection in the dresser mirror.

Making up her mind, she pushed herself off the bed and crossed to the window, quickly pulling back the curtains without ceremony. The light of late afternoon flooded in, making her blink and raise a hand to her eyes as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. Her fingertips left faint smudges as she brushed them against the glass, in gentle reminder of the life that was waiting for her just outside. She would have to face the world again soon enough.

Soon, but not yet.

Turning around, she wandered to her desk and trailed her fingers over the textbooks and papers left behind from her hastily finished homework. And because tidying up was only ever something she did when she was trying to avoid her own thoughts, she soon found her hands moving to automatically stack and straighten the books that cluttered the surface. Lifting away the bulk of her math textbook, she suddenly paused at the sight of the gold folder that was revealed below it. Rachel tensed: the returning memory ghosting through her mind like a summer chill. Reaching out, she tentatively pulled it towards her. She had almost forgotten about the assignment.

Tapping her fingers against the desk, she blew out a breath before finally picking it up and flipping it open. Maybe it would feel good to have something else to focus on for a while.

Still leafing through the loose sheets of music, Rachel walked over and perched on the edge of her bed to better examine them. Shifting to sit cross-legged, she ran her fingers absently over the papers, eyes sharp with concentration as she studied the various arrangements of notes and words.

Snatches of conversation whispered at the back of her thoughts, the scene unfolding in her mind's eye, as her gaze lingered upon the same song choices they had discussed and argued over just mere days ago. Something painful welled up in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down. She was half inclined to throw the whole lot away and start afresh, free from his influence, but she knew that was stupidly impractical. She didn't have the time and besides it would be a waste of valuable input, regardless of the unfavourable source it had come from.

Pulling the folder onto her lap, she continued to flick through the results of their research, not entirely sure what she was looking for. She was just about to move on from the band he had recommended and onto some of their other picks, when a particular composition caught her attention. Brow furrowing in thought, she skimmed her eyes over the lyrics once before returning to read it through more carefully. It was a song of theirs that they hadn't considered too closely at the time; maybe they had simply missed it altogether.

But she saw it now.

Slowly, she pulled the sheet out and laid aside the folder, eyes roving over the poignant words with fresh perspective. A sad smile tugged the corner of her lips. She couldn't explain exactly why, but it suddenly seemed so fitting. She nodded softly, feeling the determination settle in her mind; the restless ache in her heart finding a focus.

Music had always been the best therapy for Rachel. Maybe this was her chance to work through the turmoil and regret that just wouldn't give her peace; all that she could never speak aloud; everything that she didn't truly understand herself. And no-one would ever know. It wasn't exactly closure, but it was as near as she was ever likely to get for them.

After all, they had started on a song; it seemed only right that she would say goodbye with one.

/o/

By the time Rachel swung through the doors of McKinley High on Monday morning, she was fully composed into perfect character once more; ready to bound back into the spotlight and resume her place at the front of the waiting stage. There was no unkempt hair out of place; no red rims to her eyes; no falter in her sprightly step to betray any of the heartbreaking revelations of the weekend.

To the outside observer, there was nothing but warm happiness in her face as she flashed that sparkling smile and linked her fingers through her boyfriend's; nothing but self-absorbed excitement in her manner as she gently tugged him through the corridors to their first class, monopolising the conversation with mindless chatter the whole way.

She even paused to smile and give a quick interview as Jacob's video-blog camera came looming in their direction. Placing a poised hand on her hip and pulling Finn's arm firmer over her shoulder, she took the opportunity to give a short spiel about their impending Regionals victory and the unwavering confidence in her leadership skills, brushing aside the insinuation of rising frictions between herself and Amelia and questions of her choice of underwear.

She cornered Mr Schuster outside his Spanish classroom just before lunch, curious to know what thought _exactly _he had put into hiring a professional choreographer for their routine and the idea of compulsory dance lessons for some of their less co-ordinated members. After all, they needed to utilize every advantage they could get, she reminded him loftily, before a passing Mercedes snagged her by the elbow and pulled her away towards the cafeteria, leaving the blinking teacher mumbling vainly about budget constraints in her wake.

Outwardly, she was everything the world had come to expect from Rachel Berry.

But even the greatest, most comfortable performers have slips. Moments their audience are never meant to see; little habits and wandering thoughts that are never picked up on.

Behind her locker door as she replaced her books; loitering at her desk for an extra moment as the classroom emptied at the demand of the bell; a distracted glance as she waited her turn in the lunch queue. Noticed individually, there was nothing in these incidents to raise an eyebrow or warrant a second thought. Indeed, perhaps only if someone had been following her around all day, watching her close enough to catch each stolen peek and curious enough to piece them together, could they have suspected that anything was amiss.

Yet that's the wonderful thing about being surrounded by crowds of equally self-involved teenagers: it was easy to pass under the radar if you were careful. And so there was no-one there to witness this new behavioural quirk; no-one to count the number of times her hand strayed to the muted cell in her pocket; no-one to think it strange to see just how often she reluctantly checked the dark screen for words that never seemed to come.

Rachel's gaze dropped from the whiteboard with a quiet sigh that was half boredom and half frustration. It was the last class of the day and her concentration was wearing thin. Twirling her pen in one hand and fighting the urge to stare out the window, she flinched in surprise as she felt her phone abruptly hum into life against her hip, breaking its stubborn vow of silence. An unbidden jolt of adrenaline tensed her muscles, cranking up her heartbeat to an almost painful volume. Angry with herself, she took a deep breath and attempted to bring her body back under control.

Careful not to raise her eyes and keeping her features as blank as possible, she slipped a hand under the desk and wriggled the cell phone out of her pocket until she could awkwardly flip the screen open. Casting her gaze down as subtly as she could, she squinted to read the message.

Something heavy settled like lead inside her stomach, scattering her emotions before she could even try and temper the reaction. She skimmed through Finn's text, only vaguely registering the words, before softly closing the lid back down.

Digging her fingers into her hairline and staring so hard at her textbook that one would think she was trying to burn a hole through it, Rachel desperately tried to snatch back the rebellious thoughts and feelings that were soaring through her mind like a flock of birds rushing to escape their cracked cage.

_Just breathe_.

And so she did, drawing on the steady rhythm to medicate the fresh stabs of pain; a twisting in her gut that was equal parts horrible guilt and forbidden disappointment.

She knew that it couldn't last forever. One day it would stop hurting; one day she would stop feeling so torn and feel whole again. It just took a little time, that's all. Time to readjust back to normal and break the bad habits: to condition that defiant corner of her heart back in sync with her head; to stop looking for his presence where it didn't belong.

Rachel closed her eyes. She knew what she was _supposed _to feel; what she wanted to feel; what she used to feel – but all those rules were helpless to tame the wild wings that fluttered through her body, none of which conformed to name or reason. The small phone weighed heavy in her pocket but remained perfectly still, undisturbed.

_Good_, she insisted firmly. She didn't want to hear from him. She didn't want to see him ever again. Not after what she'd learned; not after everything he'd done. Maybe he'd finally got the message and agreed to leave her alone. After all, she'd made it perfectly clear that there was no way forward for them, no hope for redemption or amends, so he wasn't even trying. Why would he? Unless it was for Shelby or his own advantage – she wasn't worth the effort to him.

She told herself she was glad; convinced herself that deep down she was relieved to be free of him, grateful to be away from his dangerous manipulations and bitter heartache. She should be happy: she'd got her wish and somehow escaped him with her life still intact. And that's all that mattered in the end.

She wasn't looking for him. They had nothing more to say to each other. Maybe he'd already left town; maybe he was already on his way back to UCLA. Rachel didn't know what to make of the freezing stone that sank through her stomach at the thought. She brushed her fingers over the outline of her phone before clenching her hand on her knee and quickly distracting herself.

It was always going to end sooner or later; he was always going to leave. It was what he did. And yet despite that, they'd never had a proper goodbye, never shared a final curtain call; each parting seemingly only the start of another intermission – merely the act breaks that bound their story together. Maybe this was all for the best: given her the chance to get out before she got in too deep to see the surface anymore. She had to concentrate on settling back into her real life, her world of school and singing and glee club: the same routines that she had relied on for so long. The life she knew, the people who made her happy and the boy she wanted to be with.

Jesse had only ever been a destructive weakness; a forbidden longing; a painful mistake. Hell wrapped up in sweet temptations. She shook her head to herself, lost in thought. He wasn't real; he wasn't forever; he wasn't her best friend or Broadway sweetheart; he wasn't the song in her heart or a fated inevitability. He wasn't _love_.

A quiet shiver ran through her body and Rachel bit into her lip so hard she almost drew blood. She quickly glanced up at the board, pouring over each word with a forced attention, but it wasn't enough to entirely drown out the little voice that piped up at the back of her head. There was a lot she could hate Jesse for; a wealth of reasons to run a mile from the tangle of secrets and lies he brought into her life – but there was still no denying the familiar feeling that ached through her bones; the reluctant truth that whispered under her thoughts.

She_ missed_ him.

She missed the touch of his arms around her: comforting and strong and never completely innocent. She missed the warmth of his laugh and the dark glint of his eyes; the messy locks of his hair and the cocky, infuriating, stomach-flipping magic of his smile. She missed the sound of his voice and the melody of his songs; the honest beauty in his music; the way he constantly drove her to be better and strived just as hard as she did. She missed the feeling of his fingers entwining in her hair as he held her close; the simmering fire and gentle demand in his kiss. She missed the way he could read her mind and moods; how he matched her drama queen temperament with the same dramatic flair, and wasn't ashamed of it. The starlight dreams they shared; the magnetism of his talent and even the arrogant and ultimately heart-breaking power of his ambition.

Rachel felt like sinking down in her seat and burying her head in her hands with a groan of frustration. It wasn't fair, it wasn't logical and it was wrong on so many levels. But perhaps the worst secret of all...was how much she missed the way he made her feel about herself.

It was hard to describe: that sense of calm and unspoken assurance that came so naturally in his presence. When, just for a moment, every shy and bold piece of her settled together side by side and felt content with the complete picture they made. Imperfections and hated insecurities laid tenderly next to pushy confidence and endless opinions; all strangely at peace with their own worth. A worth she would never have been kind enough to give herself.

It was a rare gift to have. Of course, he'd always had a skill for lowering her inhibitions, she reflected wryly.

Maybe it was because he shared that single minded determination to reach the stars. Maybe it was because, for the first time, she'd seen that same wilful focus in someone else's eyes and felt better about her own. Maybe because he'd made her feel like that consuming desire to be the best could actually be something good and worthwhile – something _admirable_. Someone who knew how it felt because he lived like that too; who fought for his future and understood that sometimes dreams required sacrifice…maybe understood it even better than she did.

Whatever the reason, it was a sense of freedom that she'd never really experienced before: the feeling that for once, she wasn't always _trying, trying, trying_.

The intrusive chime of the bell abruptly startled Rachel from her thoughts. Chairs clattered around her as her classmates rose to their feet, eager to escape the corridors of learning and make the most of their evening. Lifting her head, she blinked at the board and quickly copied down the homework, before quietly packing away her stuff and slipping into the crowded hallways, bent on a familiar destination.

/o/

"Mr Schue?"

With an indulgent sigh, Will turned around from the whiteboard and looked over to the expectant hand that was raised straight in the air.

"Yes, Rachel?"

She lowered her arm and looked almost hesitant for a second before she appeared to make up her mind, her features taking on a familiar determination.

"I'd like to do my assignment now, if that's okay?"

Will blinked in slight surprise. Of course, it was predictable that Rachel always took every chance to perform, more than usually volunteering to go first, but she'd seemed less than enthusiastic about this week's assignment when he'd initially given it out. In fact, he distinctly remembered the look of mild distaste that had crinkled her expression at the suggestion. He was pleased that she had risen to the challenge, it would do her good to stretch her horizons and creativity, but he hadn't really expected her to be the first person to broach the subject today – before even he'd had the chance to.

He saw some members of the club exchange a long-suffering glance or a giggling whisper, but Rachel paid them no attention, still waiting for his response. Again, something that was quite unusual for her.

"Well, yes of course."

She spared him a small, grateful smile before standing up from beside Finn, smoothing down her blouse and coming to the front. Will moved to take a seat off at the side, somewhat curious to see how she'd chosen to express herself through an uncharacteristic genre of music.

Taking her place on the floor, Rachel turned and signalled to the band, who she'd taken the time to thoroughly brief during lunchtime, before turning back to face her peers again. As the soft rhythm of the opening notes filled the choir room, she closed her eyes with a deep breath and let the music slowly build around her, using it to calm the nervous current in her heart. She felt the touch of the lingering guitar chords as they drew out like whispers on a breeze, gently guiding her into the haunting lyrics of the song.

_See the stone set in your eyes  
See the thorn twist in my side  
I wait for you_

Her voice was low but gently strong, stripped down in a way she had never experimented with before. It felt slightly disconcerting, but strangely liberating – and just right for this song. There was an understated beauty to the ballad; a bare power that lay in its interpretative truth. Rachel raised her head and relaxed her shoulders, letting the poetic words carry the burden of her emotions for one moment; each note weighed down by heartache yet lifted by honesty. A riddle she may never be able to solve.

_Sleight of hand and twist of fate  
On a bed of nails he makes me wait  
And I wait without you_

The unfamiliar verses fell from her lips far easier than she had anticipated. Almost too easily. The memory of his voice echoed softly in the back of her mind, drawing her down into old wounds before she quickly blocked it out. The bitter pain that ran under her song may be his doing, but it wasn't his to share – not this time. This was _her _farewell.

_Through the storm we reach the shore  
You give it all, but I want more  
And I'm waiting for you_

Rachel swallowed, silently fighting the salty burn in her throat that grew hotter with each word. Keeping her gaze firmly averted, she channelled all the rising frustration into her voice; pouring out every confused instinct she battled with into the music that would always tell their story.

_With or without you  
With or without you  
I can't live  
With or without you_

The music swelled around her, spurring the song on. Rachel pressed her hand lightly into her stomach, unconsciously seeking some touch of physical assurance as her voice grew in response. It was strange how the songs that cut closest to the bone, sometimes took on a will of their own. She closed her eyes with a soft frown, ignoring the ache in her chest as the soulful words met the music again in a powerful and heartbreaking melody.

_My hands are tied  
My body bruised, you got me with  
Nothing to win and  
Nothing left to lose_

As the signature guitar riff kicked in, Rachel threw herself into the song as hard as she dared, desperate to shake off the lingering hold on her heart. This would be their final song; the last time she would allow him to rule her emotions so openly. A painful regret laced her voice as she slipped into the last verses; the echo of a cursed secret that reached far deeper than her listening teammates would ever know.

_And you give yourself away  
And you give yourself away  
And you give  
And you give  
And you give yourself away_

Curiosity got the better of her and she chanced a glance at her audience. Santana was looking typically bored; Brittany appeared slightly confused by the whole thing, while Puck looked almost impressed at her band choice. Patrick was nodding along softly; Mike seemed thoughtful as he watched her and Amelia was looking a little disgruntled. She suddenly felt something lurch inside her stomach, so violent it almost made her dizzy, as her eyes accidently found Finn's. Her throat tightened and for one terrifying moment, she felt so sick with guilt that she nearly turned and bolted from the room.

But Rachel was a professional, and she would never abandon a performance. Quickly forcing her gaze away, she drew in a steadying breath and concentrated her focus inward once more. She was determined to finish this; once and for all.

_With or without you  
With or without you  
I can't live  
With or without you_

Her voice softened but never lost its quiet conviction as she brought the song to a close, the last notes fading reluctantly from the air like the last threads of sunlight clinging to the sky before the dusk set in.

There was silence for a moment before the familiar sound of applause filled the room, breaking the spell of her performance. Rachel let out a deep breath and quickly regrouped. Turning her head, she gave a bright smile of thanks to the band, all of whom had done a remarkable job considering the lack of preparation time she had given them.

"Very good, Rachel." She turned around again to face Mr Schue as he stood up and came over to join her on the floor. "Very," he frowned thoughtfully as he cast around for a suitable word. "Heart-felt."

Finding she could summon only a polite nod in response, she quickly moved to reclaim her seat, doing her best to avoid the eyes of her teammates. As she sat down in her place at Finn's side, she tried to force the tension out of her body; ready to pick up the plot of her life again and put the last of his memory behind her. That had been the whole point, after all.

She felt Finn's hand reach for hers with the ease of practice, and squeezed it back in gentle assurance. She sent him a warm smile, drawing in the familiar touch of comfort and letting it soothe the throbbing in her heart. She leant into his side with a tired sigh, only half listening as Mr Schue opened up the floor to her fellow members, focusing only on the feeling of her boyfriend's fingers tightening affectionately around hers.

_Goodbye Jesse._

**~o~**

* * *

The End.

…

Just kidding.

**AN**: Firstly, yay for the return of _Glee_ to our screens (if only it brought Jesse/Jonathon Groff with it. Sigh.) Of course, it also spins this story off into the realms of very AU, but hey, denial land is a fun place to play in. Sorry for the lack of Jesse in this chapter, but it was necessary and I will make up for it. I just felt it was important to explore Rachel's perspective after the revelations of the last chapter, and the natural progression of the emotional rollercoaster she is on. As one of my reviewers pointed out, it's not exactly something she would get over straight away, no matter how conflicted she is feeling.

Oh, and again for the record, I don't own '_Unusual Way_' from Nine or U2's '_With Or Without You_'. I'm merely borrowing them. I love the layers of meaning to '_With Or Without You'_ and it just seems to fit so well into Rachel and Jesse's tormented relationship ;) Thank you so much for all your comments, they are priceless in terms of motivation and happy feelings - and I do take inspiration from them! I'm also hugely inspired and awed by some of the truly wonderful St. Berry vids out there; major kudos and thanks to all those talented vidders! Long may you share the love :) I'm just happy I get to be a part of such an awesome network of St. Berry fans, and contribute to the epicness of their romance, in my own way.

Of course, my poor Buffy readers will probably be ready to murder me by the time I eventually update for them!

Anyway, as always, feedback is received with smiles and gratitude. Let me know what you think? Thanks for reading.

And on a random side note: did anyone else well up during _Grilled Cheesus_ and want to jump through the TV screen to hug Kurt? His best episode (dramatically speaking of course!) so far I'd say. I thought he was brilliant, even if he made me cry.

**Adiós.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

The scrape of chipped stone skidding across the sidewalk seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet street, yet it barely made a ripple against the surface of his thoughts. Jesse hunched further into his jacket, the frown etching deeper into his features as memories continued to echo relentlessly around his head, dredging up unwanted questions that he didn't want to debate anymore.

Yet they refused to leave him alone. A bitter smirk lined his mouth. How typical.

His boot scuffed the ground as he idly knocked his foot into the small rock once more, never breaking stride, sending it rattling further up the path away from him. He had hoped the fresh air would bring some order and resolution to his thoughts; sharpen the haze of emotion into focus and present him with some bright flash of clarity. He had been going stir crazy in his uncle's house, stewing away in the quiet and left to amuse himself as usual; the familial ties of obligation only stretching as far as cursory conversation, and if his nephew was feeling particularly unsociable then the older man was more than content to leave the brooding boy to his moods. It was an arrangement that had come to serve them both quite well.

Jesse blew out a deep sigh, struggling to bring himself out of the painful noise inside his head. He had tried driving it off, had indulged in the idea of simply throwing his bags in the trunk and driving all the way back to California himself, but had instead ended up taking to the streets in increasingly long walks in an attempt to figure out what the hell he was feeling about the whole sordid mess. It was proving a difficult challenge, and one the confines of this small city was not really up to. He was tempted just to keep walking until he found peace of mind and came back to his senses, but he had a feeling that crippling exhaustion would find him first. The cool breeze swept across the back of his neck, chilling his skin and making him tug his collar up higher. The night fell like a muffling blanket around him, lying heavy across his shoulders with a burden he couldn't seem to shake off.

He winced as a familiar voice invaded his mind again: words hard with accusation, those same dark eyes burning with wounded anger; a violation of trust that ran so much deeper than he had ever considered before; a betrayal of intimacy that he had so nearly crossed without a second thought.

'_Were you really so flippant about destroying my heart?'_

He closed his eyes and shook his head sharply, as if that could somehow dispel her voice from his thoughts and banish the storm of emotion that came with it. But it seemed that she was as persistent in memory as she was in the flesh, and she wasn't going to leave him alone that easily. Opening his eyes with a sigh, Jesse finally gave in – if only to the Rachel in his head.

_Yes_, a whisper at the back of his mind answered reluctantly.

Honestly, it had never really occurred to him. He'd just never been around people before who saw sex as such a big deal. When she'd initially refused him, that night after the concert, it had been the sting of pride that had soured his mood and turned him away from her presence; painfully reminiscent of the spoilt child who wasn't used to hearing _no_.

He'd seen the hurt and confusion on her face as he pulled away, but he'd never stopped to try and read the currents beneath it; never considered the full weight of the turmoil he was so recklessly playing with. She'd called out, his name torn and uncertain on her lips, but he was already half-way down the stairs and had pretended not to hear. He'd walked away from her; a single act that was to set a precedent in their troubled relationship.

It wasn't even something he could blame Shelby for. Not this time. Rachel was right: that impromptu drama had never been a part of their ruse; it was never a premeditated tactic to somehow unleash more heartache on her. It was never intended to be a twist of the knife.

No, that time it had been all _him_.

It was an impulse; a surge of desire that had temporarily clouded his perspective. He shrugged slightly, annoyed at the creeping defensiveness that snapped along the edge of his mind. It was just a bit of fun. They were just teenagers. And just because he was there for Shelby, didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself along the way.

It wasn't as if the feeling was unreciprocated. Quite the opposite. A shallow smile curved his lips, tinged with bitter irony. He had to admit that, perhaps, Rachel had him beat when it came to the arena of willpower; a feat that would have been impressive, if it weren't so endlessly frustrating.

And yet, because he was there for Shelby, he'd had to find a way to fix it; a way to put his ego to one side and make a suitable show of respecting her wishes. He couldn't allow one incident to compromise his whole mission after all.

She'd snuck into the school library to meet him, just like he knew she would, and his little speech of contrite apology had turned out even better than he'd expected. It had been almost too easy to pull off; too easy to read those wide, nervous eyes and know exactly what she so badly wanted to hear; what she needed him to say.

And that was when he'd first seen it. That rush of relief that had warmed her gaze as he proved he was really willing to put their relationship, and her, first. Indeed, she had been so touched by his gesture of patience and consideration, that she had abruptly changed her mind. It was an added bonus that he hadn't quite anticipated, and as he caught her up in his arms, returning her embrace just as tightly, the smile that crossed his face was light and unbidden in a way that took him by surprise.

Of course, nothing ever went predictably when it came to Rachel Berry. Still, the second time around he had managed to stay and smile in understanding, and it didn't feel nearly as forced as he had expected it to. He'd known then, that getting truly close to this girl was going to involve more skill and deeper risk than he had previously counted on. She was going to make him work for it.

And pay for it.

Looking back, that little episode of their relationship had never registered on his radar as anything of real importance at all, but now a part of him couldn't help but wonder…would that actually have been his biggest crime? In her eyes, would _that _betrayal be what she'd ultimately resent him for, more than even all the manipulation and deceit he'd weaved at Shelby's request?

Clenching his fists, Jesse shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and callously brushed the thought aside. What did it matter anyway? He didn't know why he was dwelling so much on her words; why they sent him spiralling back into their turbulent past with such mixed feelings. It was all a pointless waste of time. No amount of reflection was going to miraculously reveal a noble intention somewhere in his psyche, or cast his previous actions in a new light of revelation. There wasn't a spiteful accusation of hers that he could honestly rebuke in good conscience. He'd always known how things were going to end between them. It could never have been any other way. He'd known his true objective all along and he'd done whatever it took to achieve it, just like in every other challenge he took on. It was just a fact of who he was. Granted, his priorities may have temporarily fallen out of order in the throws of in-depth characterisation, but that was the pitfall of great acting. The bottom line was that he'd known exactly what he was getting into and he'd done it willingly, as a magnanimous favour to his coach and, frankly, just for the thrill of it.

He'd just never quite planned on…_her_.

Jesse grimaced and quickly got a grip on his thoughts. She was just another girl at the end of the day. An act he had let go too far. It wasn't like they were fated lovers or anything. Despite the ever enduring references, they weren't the Romeo and Juliet of the Show Choir world – all dramatic parallels aside. Their story wasn't written in the stars; it was a very human tale of folly and farce. And there was simply too much pride and resentment, lies and heartache between them to ever redeem it. They were never going to have a happy ending: an oxymoron that was a mythical concept in itself. There was no such thing.

He smiled faintly to himself. Perhaps, in that respect, they were exactly like Romeo and Juliet.

The familiar weight of his phone lay heavy inside his jean pocket, pressing against his leg with a mocking silence. He kicked the stone a little harder than he'd intended, the muscles in his body tense with a friction that refused to be settled; the same restlessness that had plagued his sleep the last few nights.

Nothing.

Not that he'd really expected to hear from her after the explosive fireworks of their last exchange. Stubborn righteousness was clearly a strong family trait, he thought wryly. She was definitely her mother's daughter…and yet, she was so different. He suddenly wondered what Shelby would've had to say about the impossible situation he found himself in; if she had any inkling at all of the fucked up ties she had left behind in the wake of her ill-conceived reunion. But while she'd chosen to turn away, he'd somehow been pulled back to this god-forsaken town, chasing the lure of dangerous shadows that just wouldn't stop haunting him. Ironically, it seemed that the connections that hadn't been his to make, were proving the hardest to break.

How the hell did this happen? How could one girl consume his mind so much? He shook his head slightly, warring with his own thoughts, puzzling over the conundrum that was Rachel Berry.

She'd stormed through his life in a whirlwind of colour and energy, turmoil and conflict that had never truly affected him before. Maybe that was what had angered him the most: because for the first time, Jesse could feel his emotions slipping out of his control; the unnerving sensation of another person working their way past his barriers; someone who was just as dramatic and demanding and ambitious as him. The first competitor who had ever come close to rivalling him in terms of talent and determination; the first performer who had ever matched his voice and song with such seamless harmony; the only person who'd ever made him stop and look back.

And eventually, the lingering memory just hadn't been enough anymore.

He should have never come back here. Jesse scowled at the ground under his feet, as if it was somehow to blame for his bad judgement. This place was nothing but a sucking void of depression and banality, it always had been. Getting away had been the best thing he'd ever done, and he didn't know what had possessed him to ever think it could possibly be worth a return trip. It was a reckless urge he should have never succumbed to.

And he sure as hell didn't know why he was_ still_ here. It was an uncharacteristic move that was proving unpopular across all sectors, and one he couldn't even justify to himself. He had no reason to stick around and every reason in the world to be gone. It had been easy enough to do the first time.

With a last vicious kick, the stone went flying off the sidewalk and out into the road, where it landed with a sharp, rolling clatter. Finally lifting his head up, Jesse straightened his shoulders and blinked around at the darkness as he tried to get his bearings. He suppressed a bitter laugh as he realised his aimless wander had taken him right to the corner of_ her_ street.

Of course.

He immediately moved to turn around, planning to retrace his steps back to his own neighbourhood, when something made him stop. Stepping forward, he peered harder across the road at the dark row of cars, an uneasy sense of déjà vu settling in his gut. His eyes found the familiar vanity plate at the same moment the first shout reached his ears.

"St. James!"

He turned smoothly to meet the excited calls, his impeccable show face slipping effortlessly back into place without a moment's hesitation, masking any surprise he might have felt at this unexpected reunion. An easy smile of assurance covered his features as he headed along to meet the boisterous group that was rushing up to him.

Eric reached him first, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly embrace that Jesse returned, before nodding casually to the others who quickly joined them. Lucy went for a slightly more intimate greeting, pressing her whole body against his in a crushing hug that gave him a lungful of her favourite Parisian perfume that was still as strong as he remembered.

"Long time no see, stranger."

"Yeah, when did you get back into town?"

Jesse couldn't help but smile at the tide of eager questions that met him at the sight of his former teammates. Not that he was short of adored attention back in L.A, but it was nice to know his absence had been felt.

"Last week."

"What? And no call?" Reece pulled a mock wounded expression that made Sam giggle and elbow him in the ribs. "You too good for us now, college boy?"

Jesse laughed, shrugging off the teasing reproach. "Been busy, what can I say? How's it going anyway?"

"Oh well, some new blood, lots of deluded wannabes who we let audition just for the comedy value, and the new coach is a total ball buster." Eric grimaced. "He gives Shelby a serious run for her money, but he gets the job done I suppose."

"Goolsby's not that bad," Jenna argued. "For your information, he wouldn't crack down on you so much if you didn't insist on turning up late to rehearsals."

"Excuse me, but that was one time and it wasn't _my _fault Kingsley kept me back after class!"

"Yeah," Daniel agreed, ever quick to add his two cents worth. "Just because you flirt your way unashamedly out of trouble, doesn't mean it works for the rest of us."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she replied loftily, crossing her arms.

Aaron caught his gaze and rolled his eyes behind her back. Jesse smirked.

"Anyway," Eric said, returning his attention to him. "You should still swing by Carmel before you go, catch up properly. And you could see what we've got planned for the big competition." A smug grin broke across his face. "It's a hell of a show-stopper."

Jesse raised his eyebrows in friendly scepticism. "You really think you can top last year?"

Eric laughed knowingly. "Don't we always?"

"Regionals is going to be a cinch this year. Did you hear_ McKinley _got through again?" Aaron shrugged in mild disgust. "Thought the scrappy underdog novelty would've worn off by now."

"Yeah, I heard." Jesse's voice was perfectly unconcerned, but his mind was spinning with astute assessment, and it didn't like what it was deducing from the circumstances of this impromptu get together. The knot of tension tightened in his stomach.

"Still, that's no reason to leave them out of the celebration," said Lucy, eyes twinkling in gleeful anticipation. "Never hurts to remind them of the natural order of things."

"Sure," he murmured absently, his gaze straying to the bulging plastic bags they were carrying, and he suspected he knew exactly what was in them. There was only one reason they would be on this street so late at night; only one target they would go to this much trouble for.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

She flashed an innocent smile. "Just a little light decorating."

"Yeah, perfect timing actually." Reece stepped forward with a nod of approval, meeting his eyes with a conspiratorial grin. "Knew you'd be gutted to miss this."

Jesse looked down at the offered egg carton, keenly aware of the expectant stares that surrounded him, waiting for him to live up to his reputation. His fingers brushed tentatively against the cardboard. It would be so easy. What did he have to lose anyway?

Jenna moved to his side, her hand resting gently on his arm in a gesture of encouragement. "You're still one of us, Jesse."

But he wasn't one of them, not anymore. A frown touched his face as he felt old instincts battle new, staying his hand and wrenching through his heart. It all came down to another choice – standing between _her _and them all over again.

Jesse knew his options, and none were overly appealing. He really didn't want to fight his friends. For all the rivalry, friction and dirty politics among his old team, there was also a sense of camaraderie, friendship and good times still tied up with them. Of course, he could always walk away, plead non-interference. He sighed inwardly in defeat, knowing all too well that would only be a step up from his previous behaviour, and hardly one he would be commended for. Then there was door number three. It would be by far the easiest and he had no real reason not to. Why mess with convention after all?

'_Are you with us or not?'_

Déjà vu abruptly swept through his mind with sickening clarity. He'd bowed to demand and expectation before; he'd paid his dues and won his prize, and he'd had to live with the cost of it every day since. But now wasn't then. His life had moved on to bigger things; he didn't need them to help him reach success. His loyalty didn't have to be divided anymore.

He felt the box being pushed into his hand and swallowed hard, the dark memory raw in his throat and sticky on his fingers. He clenched his jaw and made his choice.

_No._

Carefully, he withdrew his hand, his voice firm but controlled.

"I'll pass."

He saw Sam frown in confusion and exchange a look with Reece. Daniel just laughed.

"Yeah right, since when do you ever pass up a chance to humiliate the competition?"

"Come on, man," Aaron persisted. "This was _your _tradition. You upped the standard for all of us. Don't tell me you don't want in on one last honorary round? For old time's sake?"

Jesse held his gaze levelly, his tone cool. "That was different. School ground is fair game. We never took it to the door."

"Yeah well, things change."

He looked around at the new voice to see another boy step forward from the group, a faint sneer on his face as he regarded their old leader. Jesse fought the urge to narrow his eyes. Sean Parker. Well, he should have seen that coming. That obnoxious upstart had always been after his solos. Talk about delusions of grandeur; as if Shelby would've_ ever_ placed their chances at Nationals in his greedy hands when they had Jesse. It wasn't even a contest.

"So I see," he said calmly, making no effort to hide the distaste in his gaze. "And not always for the better."

Sean cocked his head, a mocking tilt to his smile. "Look at you, getting all high and mighty with your own team. What happened, man? Going soft in California or something?"

Jesse laughed, hard and cold but not without a bitter sense of amusement. "Give me a break."

He smirked. "Then prove it. Come on, _St. James_," he goaded, walking closer, an impatient glint in his eyes. "Or do you think you're better than us now?"

Jesse very nearly rolled his eyes. No wonder Rachel wasn't worried about Regionals if _this _was his replacement. He met his old teammate's stare with a steely arrogance.

"I was _always _better than you, and everybody here knows it."

He watched smugly as predictable anger flared across the other boy's expression. He knew Parker was trying to get a rise out of him, but when it came to a battle of manipulating emotion, Sean was sorely outmatched.

"You must have thought you really lucked out, what with me_ and_ Shelby leaving the same year. Didn't waste any time in throwing yourself forward, did you?" He lifted his shoulders dismissively. "So thanks for the offer, but I don't need to prove anything."

"That's rich coming from the guy who ditched us last year to go fraternize with the enemy." He narrowed his eyes in sly accusation. "Don't tell me you still have a soft spot for those McKinley losers? Or have you just lost your nerve?"

He couldn't believe the gall of this guy sometimes. Jesse had _carried _that team for the better part of four years. Part of him longed to forcibly remind him of that, but the rational side of his mind decided that it wasn't worth it.

"Maybe I just grew out of childish tactics."

"Oh, don't we have a superiority complex," he taunted.

Jesse ignored the snide dig, turning instead to cast a glance at the conflicted faces of his team that stood around them, and he had a sudden moment of useless clarity. Like the flash of revelation you get when you've already jumped off the cliff. What was he doing? This wasn't his battle to fight. She'd made her feelings perfectly clear after all; there was no way she was ever going to let him back into her life now. So why should he bother to protect her? Why should he stick his neck out against old friends? Why the hell did he still _care_?

He shook his head to himself, a sardonic smile shadowing his mouth. Damn Rachel Berry. She was actually going to force him to break his façade, to lay his cards down and take the consequences, something that would be utterly unforgivable coming from anyone else.

Still…maybe he felt he owed her this at least.

"You guys should really back off." He spoke quietly, voice deceptively calm, but the cool fire in his eyes left no room for misinterpretation. "Trust me, this isn't a good idea."

"And what if we don't?" Parker challenged, stepping closer until the air between them was taught with barely controlled hostility. A muscle twitched in Jesse's jaw as they glared at each other, each daring the other to snap first.

"Leave it, Sean."

"You seem to be forgetting, you're not the _golden boy_ around here anymore. You don't get to decide what we do. What do you care anyway?" he demanded. When Jesse remained silent, he shook his head in disgust. "Whatever. If you're not going to be helpful, then get out of here."

A tight smirk crossed Jesse's lips. "Boy, you really have dragged the whole club down to your level, haven't you?"

He watched with reckless satisfaction as he saw the restraint finally break in Sean's eyes a split second before he swung. But Jesse had been ready and easily dodged the blow, clenching his own fists in retaliation.

He was vaguely aware of the shouts around them, but he couldn't tell if they were trying to break them up or egging them on, and he didn't really have time to check as Sean swiftly landed a punch deep in his gut that sent a painful spasm racing through his body. Grimacing, he quickly straightened up and slammed his knuckles across his cheekbone, sending the other boy staggering away from him. Gritting his teeth against the ache that was spreading through his torso, he moved forward but Sean spun around with a right hook that he didn't manage to avoid in time. The blow caught the edge of his jaw and Jesse tasted the sharp tang of blood. Blinking quickly, he blocked his arm as it came lunging back and twisted, throwing the younger boy off balance before driving his fist into his stomach with a force that made Sean double over with a groan.

They were both no stranger to fights, and neither was pulling any punches. Years of festering resentment and several days of unvented turmoil will do that. Breathing heavily, Sean made a grab and seized the front of Jesse's jacket, jerking them both around to slam into the side of a parked car. Jesse winced as they collided hard into unyielding metal, a dull ache pounding through his head. Catching his breath, he roughly shoved off Sean's grip and knocked him backwards.

He quickly pushed away from the vehicle, but the damage had already been done. The piercing wail of the car alarm echoed into the night, making several members of Vocal Adrenaline clamp their hands over their ears with panicked shouts. Sean threw one last look of loathing in his direction, wiping the back of his hand over his bleeding lip, before turning to follow after his hastily scattering team.

Jesse stood back, keeping a wary distance as he watched the group disperse into the darkness, until only one lingered. Their eyes finally met, locking in a silent exchange that neither could fully read. She shook her head slightly, something sadly wistful and strangely resigned in her gaze; questions he couldn't answer.

She hesitated, almost as if she wanted to speak, but both were distracted as a nearby car roared to life and pulled out into the street. The shiny Range Rover skidded to a stop a little way up the road and a head leaned out the window, shouting back impatiently.

"Chloe! Move it!"

She looked over and gave Jesse one last glance, and for a moment she looked desperately torn between old loyalties and new, before she quickly backed away and turned on her heel to run to the car and her waiting teammates.

Jesse moved to turn away from the glow of retreating taillights, instinctively walking in the opposite direction, keen to put as much space between them as possible. His muscles ached in a series of dull twinges and he had a stinging pain above his left eye, but he pushed them out of his mind as much as he could, his only immediate thought being the impending long walk he had ahead of him to get back to his uncle's house.

The car alarm was still ringing out behind him, no doubt drawing curious attention, and all the more reason to exit the scene as quickly as possible. Bowing his head, he walked on, lost in the haze of his thoughts, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening to his left. Light spilled out across the neatly cut lawn beside him, softly framing the silent silhouette that stood watching him from the doorway.

Jesse let his shoulders slump slightly before with a deep breath, he slowly raised his head to meet some very familiar eyes.

**~o~**

* * *

**AN **Well, I promised you a Jesse chapter, and here it is. Hope you enjoyed and don't hate me too much for leaving it there ;) Plus a little Chloe cameo for those of you who might have read _San Diego Secrets_. Also, I can tell you that the question of Jesse's prolonged holiday break will be answered further on, I haven't forgotten. Thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed and favourited this story so far, it means a lot.

As ever, I love to hear what you think :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

"Stop fidgeting."

She felt him give a disgruntled huff at the reprimand, shifting restlessly under her touch like an impatient child, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Ever the reluctant patient. Lingering silence filled the room once more, falling over them like an expectant hush; the beckoning of an open stage that both were uncharacteristically shying away from.

Leaning back, Rachel turned and reached over to the bowl that stood on her bedside table. Dipping the washcloth into the hot water, she carefully rinsed out the blood before settling down in her place beside him again. Her movements were firm but gentle as she tilted his head back towards her, taking control with the same ordered calmness with which she had led him up to her room and planted him down on her bed. He'd sighed in objection but otherwise kept their mutual quiet, too tired or defeated to bother fighting her.

The sanity of her actions had occurred to her more than a few times, and she'd glanced away from the glare of her reflection as she slipped into her en suite, as if the girl in the mirror would judge her unfavourably for this touch of mercy. Instead, she had quickly pulled out the first aid box from her bathroom cabinet, and buried the thumping confusion behind a mask of neutral professionalism.

Pressing the cloth back down onto the bleeding gash that ran just above his eyebrow, Rachel swallowed down the ache in her throat and poured all her concentration onto her medicating hands, avoiding his eyes just as firmly as he was avoiding hers. The silence was getting slightly oppressive but neither seemed willing to disturb the troubled waters that lay beneath it. She didn't ask and he didn't tell; both unprepared to show their hand first.

Rachel knew this was a dangerous mistake. She'd known it from the moment she had opened the front door, from the second she'd met his gaze again. Every reasonable part of her mind was recoiling away from the conflict and pain of being this close to him; reminding her that this was all wrong and fighting back the assault of emotions that threatened to engulf her even as she sat there. There was an uneasy tension in his body that echoed her own, a running dialogue that whispered under their movements, but both pointedly ignored it.

"Here, hold this."

Jesse looked down at the ice pack she had pushed into his hand, with faint exasperation.

"You don't need to do this," he said finally, a sullen note in his voice. He looked away across her bedroom with a stiff shrug. "Trust me, I've had a lot worse."

"No doubt," she mumbled.

Jesse dropped the pack away from his cheek with an irritable sigh, desperate to get control over the foreign feeling of discomfort that seemed to have gripped him in her presence. It felt like a physical war raging through his body, every touch against his skin fuelling the bitter struggle between his mind and his memory. He never thought it would hurt so much to be so close to her. For possibly the first time in years, Jesse felt strangely unsure of himself. And he didn't like it.

He was briefly drawn from his troubled mood as he felt her reach down to touch his arm where it had fallen across his knees. He glanced around to meet her eyes and she gave him a stern look before patiently pulling his hand up to manoeuvre the ice back into place along the bruise on his jaw.

"Humour me."

With that, she turned back to her ministrations with a clinical efficiency. Jesse reluctantly held his position and resumed his study of her bedspread, focusing in on the numbing burn of the ice against his skin, quietly grateful for the distraction. He frowned as an absent thought reoccurred to him.

"Where are your dads?"

Rachel hesitated, her fingers stilling against his temple, as if the question had caught her off guard. She quickly recovered herself.

"Asleep," she replied after a moment, suddenly extremely thankful that her dads were such heavy sleepers, even if their bedroom was at the opposite end of the hallway. "They have an early flight in the morning. Dad has a conference in Boston until Friday."

Why was she telling him this? Rachel immediately bit her tongue, cursing her nervous rambling. Jesse only nodded, an almost invisible smile of amusement tugging his lips.

"And they're leaving their teenage daughter home alone? Brave." The teasing left his voice, replaced with something close to sincere curiosity. "They really trust you."

Rachel shrugged slightly. "I've never given them a reason not to."

_Except for you._

She grimaced at the knowing whisper that slipped through her mind and hastily dropped her gaze, picking through the medical supplies that sat beside her.

"It's not like I really have people around that much anyway. Just the Glee Club sometimes. Well, and…"

The sentence fell away with her voice but the unspoken name expanded through the air between them, heavy and unavoidable. Jesse said nothing, but she could almost feel the flare of tension that tightened across his back and shoulders. She bit her lip, confused and angry that she should feel guilty about uttering her boyfriend's name to the one person who had no claim over her heart anymore. As if the word was no more than a weapon that she could use to hurt him in retaliation. Both fell back into silence, for now preferring to deal with physical wounds over the emotional ones.

Looking up, she found her eyes flickering to the sight of his familiar jacket that lay where it had been tossed aside, the worn black standing out against the bright colours of her quilt, casually cast over her bed as if it belonged there. Rachel frowned, flashing back vividly to the last time they had been here together: the touch of his body and demand of his mouth; the rush of temptation and taste of dizzying fire that she had reluctantly pulled away from…and everything that had come after it. Quickly cutting her gaze away, she pressed her lips together and wrenched her thoughts back from that painful memory.

Putting aside the washcloth, she picked up the bottle of antiseptic and poured some out onto a cotton pad, wrinkling her nose slightly at the unpleasant smell. It always reminded Rachel of hospitals and childhood; of all the times her dads had cleaned her up and dried her tears when she'd come off the worse in the scuffles of playground bullying. It was full of memories of pain and humiliation and sickness.

And yet, it had always been followed by hugs of comfort and murmurs of reassurance; the embrace of love and the knowledge that there was always someone there to pick her up and look after her; to make it all better.

Shuffling slightly on her knees, she straightened up and raised her hand to his forehead, carefully drawing the pad across the freshly cleaned cut. She felt him wince at the contact, involuntarily flinching away from the sharp sting of the antiseptic.

"Baby," she muttered, a note of grudging affection betraying her voice before she could catch it.

Jesse made a sound of derision. "This from the girl who practically had me calling an ambulance when she _stumbled_ on the curb."

"I thought I'd twisted my ankle!" she exclaimed indignantly. "And you –" Rachel cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. Clenching her jaw, she returned her attention to her hands with a determined focus, not sure yet how she felt about slipping back into the light verbal sparring that had always been such a natural part of their relationship. It was a dangerous habit to indulge in, and one that should have broken along with her trust.

They sat in silence for a moment, each struggling with the knot of words that they couldn't seem to untangle between them. Rachel traced her fingertip absently just above the deep gash, a soft frown on her face.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said quietly.

Jesse stiffened defensively at her voice, trying to read the subtle mix of emotion under her words; to determine just how much she had worked out for herself. "Sorry, didn't realise you wanted your house teepeed," he replied dryly.

She shook her head. "I've dealt with petty and jealous bullies all my life. It's just the price of being talented and destined for bigger things. People always want to tear down the stars."

Jesse felt something split a little more inside his chest, hurting somewhere deeper than he'd thought possible. She hid it almost perfectly, but he could still hear the years of repressed pain and old scars that whispered through the cracks in her voice; an echo of a bitter loneliness that he intimately recognised but refused to acknowledge.

People should never suffer so much for their talent, especially someone as uniquely gifted as Rachel, and yet he knew the world didn't work like that. It was an ideal he'd broken himself often enough, but somehow everything tended to fall into a moral grey area when covered under the banner of _competition_. Jesse had always done whatever it took to win, to protect his position, and he'd never thought twice about it. Until _her_.

He had the distinctly uneasy feeling that Rachel Berry was proving to be the only exception to every rule he lived by.

He was roused from his conflicted thoughts as he felt her apply a strip of band aid across the worst of his cuts, her fingers gently pressing down the edges and skimming against his skin like warm feather strokes. He swallowed awkwardly, barely trusting himself to move, the tension of their close proximity threatening to cloud reason out of his head altogether.

Rachel sighed to herself, confusion darkening inside her eyes as she tried to understand his actions; to somehow reconcile what she knew about the past with what she felt about the present; wishing she could know for sure.

"It won't change anything. You know that."

She glanced over his face, subtly watching his profile for any sign that might indicate his thoughts, but there was nothing there to read. His expression had closed off, his features cool and blank, locked back behind those protective barriers. Rachel felt her heart crumple a little more inside her ribcage, but stubbornly rose above it, determined to make her point. He had to understand.

"They won't stop just because you stepped in, and they won't stay away after you leave." She gave a half-hearted shrug, a sad light in her eyes. "This is my life, Jesse. You can't fix things just like that."

He frowned faintly, not quite sure what they were talking about anymore. Maybe he didn't want to know. Perhaps it was true that he would never be able to completely fix things, but at least he could walk away this time knowing that he'd at least tried.

The vindictive gleam in Sean's eyes passed through his memory and a surge of anger clenched his bruised knuckles before abruptly turning sickly cold in the pit of his stomach. Sean's grudge was with him, but had he just managed to throw Rachel even more into the line of fire? Jesse knew his old team better than anyone, and the worst part was that he knew she was right: they would most likely only up the ante now they had been challenged, and Rachel would be the one to bear the brunt of the backlash. He didn't credit Sean with an over abundance of wits, but if he ever came to suspect the intimate nature of Jesse's sudden attack of conscience, he would waste no time in trying to make Rachel's life a living hell.

The thought sparked a desperate frustration in the depths of his mind. How the hell did everything get so screwed up? Was he cursed to forever make her suffer for his own mistakes? It was enough to give him another headache, and he suddenly regretting refusing the aspirin she had offered earlier, as the dull pounding behind his temples returned.

"What makes you think it was all about you?" he challenged, feeling his mood darken under the combined pressure of unnerving doubt and stubborn pride. He turned his head away with a dismissive tone. "I've been looking for an excuse to hit that jerk for years."

Rachel raised a critical eyebrow. "Looks to me like he was the one doing the hitting."

"Appearances can be deceptive," he countered, a shadow of grim satisfaction touching his lips.

There was a thoughtful pause behind him before he felt her speak again, her words a low murmur that he nearly missed altogether.

"Very true."

Jesse tensed, an unbidden shiver coursing through his body, as he felt her hand trail slowly down his side, those delicate fingers tracing the curve of his ribs experimentally.

"Is it really bad?"

There was a waver of uncertainty in her voice, revealing a glimpse of something he almost didn't dare let himself hope for. He could feel his heart burning up inside his chest, strong enough to break the ice of his façade, if he was prepared to let it. She was still pressed close at his side; she hadn't turned away the instant she'd finished patching him up; she hadn't told him to leave; the heat of her body and touch of her hands lingering like a ghost from his memory. It felt like they were each waiting; for something or nothing, neither could say.

"Didn't hurt like your slap," he ventured at last.

A reluctant smile crossed her lips. "Obviously there's just something about you that invites people to lash out," she said, only half teasing.

Lifting her hand, Rachel touched his cheek tenderly; his beautiful features that were marred with the stains of violence. A crease formed between her brows as she sank into her own thoughts. Her fingers stroked lightly across his cheekbone before falling to graze the edge of his jaw, careful not to aggravate the fresh bruising. "You know," she murmured softly, "this is exactly what Puck and Finn wanted to do to you after last time." She ran her thumb absently along his skin. "Poetic justice, you think?"

He finally forced himself to meet her gaze, ignoring the irrational hesitation in his heart, as if he was afraid to find that her presence would somehow prove an illusion after all; like a mirage that vanished the moment you dared to look directly at it. He turned his head and found her face, dark eyes narrowing in confusion.

"And you stopped them?"

It was a long moment before she answered; her expression unflinching.

"No," she replied calmly. "Mr Schue did."

Jesse swallowed and lowered his eyes from her bittersweet gaze. Gently catching her hand, he toyed with her fingers, savouring the feel of her skin against his. His brow knitted together as he silently warred against his own guard, knowing he would regret it forever if he couldn't find the strength to make their last moment an honest one. After everything they'd been through, she deserved that at least. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for him to live with. He drew in a steady breath, still running his thumb idly across her palm, feeling the way her fingertips instinctively curled into his.

"I know I can never change what happened. That I'll never get your forgiveness – and that's fine. But it doesn't change the fact that I never wanted it. That I never wanted to see something like this hurt you again."

"Jesse…"

He looked up as she breathed his name, the melody of her voice threaded with a hundred different emotions that made it impossible to define the tone of the whisper. He never knew anyone could cram so much into a single word. Barely registering the movement, his fingers found their way to her cheek, tracing the side of her face in an achingly familiar gesture that he had done so many times before. He felt her breath catch so quietly at the stolen touch, but her gaze never faltered, silently holding him captive as he carefully tucked a dark lock behind her ear. Her eyes shone with the same confounding swirl of contradictions as they searched his, and for a second she looked just as lost and torn as she had done that fateful day in the parking lot; unsure of which mask she was seeing, struggling to accept the truth of his intentions, refusing to believe it yet.

Rachel felt the air melt from her lungs, her heart straining in her chest under the dangerous pull of his touch. It was like standing at a great precipice and looking down, not knowing if you were going to fall or fly, even as every survival instinct inside you fought the terrifying urge to jump. His fingers pressed deeper into her hair, sliding through the soft waves before coming round to gently cup her face, sending a burning chill prickling down her spine. She felt the warmth of his breath ghost over her skin; the light pressure of those gifted hands, holding them closer than they had any right to be. An echo of protesting pain and panic rose through her, before her eyes fluttered closed, blinding her to everything but the sweet agony of his mouth against hers.

The kiss was slow and deceptively intense, yet there was something almost tentative in his movements, an unspoken hesitation holding him back that she'd never felt with him before. It was a rare glimpse of uncertainty, a falter in that seemingly impenetrable self-assurance that was so unlike him that she didn't know quite what to think. It was a light brush over her lips, one last taste of weakness that was over before she truly had the time to absorb it.

There was an endless moment before he slowly drew back enough to rest their foreheads together. Rachel felt him let out a quiet breath, his thumb still stroking along the curve of her jaw, memorizing her touch like it was the last time he would ever get the chance.

She frowned gently, her brow crumpling against his, as a storm of forbidden memories raged through her system; trailing a chaos of unsettled heartache in its wake. The spark of his kiss wound its way through her body, slipping past her objections like smoke and stoking the stubborn ember in her chest; something that could so easily consume her if she wasn't careful. Their faces were still so close, the enticing reality of his presence invading her senses and refusing to let go. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but for possibly the first time in her life, words deserted her.

The one thing in her life she just couldn't argue into her own terms.

Jesse had always been an extremely talented actor – she had learnt that the hard way. He could lie effortlessly with a word, charm with a look and deceive with a kiss. He could paint whole worlds with his performance, whispering promises of a tempting future, before ruthlessly pulling back the curtain to let the whole cruel illusion fall apart. Was there any part of him left that she could ever learn to trust again? Anything that could possibly be worth the devastating risk of the plunge? The unknowing darkness of the abyss had never looked so frightening.

Her hand lay against the slope of his neck, palm touching just over the warm beat of his pulse. It was subtle but she could still feel it; strong and constant and more honest than either of them. She felt her own breath quicken yet she barely moved; focused too closely on the silent heartbeat that was fluttering wildly under her fingers. His ultimate tell.

The choice hadn't been conscious. She was still hardly aware of it even as she leaned forward, closing the small distance between them with a single movement; yet in the moment her mouth found his again, she had known there was no going back. With a deep breath, Rachel closed her eyes and jumped.

It was with a soft touch that she brought their lips back together, but it was all the encouragement he needed. She wound her hand firmer around his neck as he slowly deepened the kiss, somehow pulling them even closer; the guards of restraint and hesitation crumbling under the tides of demanding instinct and soaring heat. Her fingers slid into his hair, lightly gripping the messy curls, her body shifting in response as Jesse gently pushed her back down against the pillows. His hand came to rest on her waist, the press of his fingers almost burning through the fragile layer of fabric, as she settled under the familiar embrace of his weight.

"This is probably a bad idea," she finally pointed out, barely managing to catch her breath against his lips.

"Hmm," he murmured in agreement between kisses. "Terrible."

"You are injured, Jesse," she reminded him.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, an amused smirk on his lips. "I'll never be hurt _that _bad, Rach."

She raised an incredulous eyebrow before gently nudging his ribs, earning a soft, playful groan from him. He sighed dramatically, causing her to bite her lip in a silent laugh, before he reluctantly moved off her, dropping onto his back on the bed beside her. Rachel turned over and curled into his side without even thinking, unconsciously seeking out the comfort of his arms which he automatically wrapped around her, bringing her in close to his chest.

They stayed like that for several long minutes, a strange sense of peace humming through their bodies even as each fell into their own daunting thoughts; silently trying to understand how they felt, what they'd been through and where they stood now. Rachel was beyond tired. It had been an incredibly long day that had turned into an emotionally fraught night, and she didn't want to even contemplate tomorrow. She just didn't want to think at all.

She could feel the absent stroke of his fingers on her side, the warm caress of his breath against her skin; the rhythm of his body quietly soothing her own. A faint frown crossed her face, and she wished her troubled mind was so easily lulled.

"You never apologised."

Jesse stirred from his own reverie as she eventually spoke, but before he could summon a response, he felt her abruptly remove herself from his embrace. She sat up straight, eyes averted, and a cold chill swept through him as he waited for her to completely pull away; for the inevitable strike of sense and reason to cut them down.

Yet as he braced himself, she surprised him by turning the other way; lithely shifting to place her knees on either side of his hips and gently pinning him to the bed. He tensed at the unexpected contact, the teasing pressure of her body against his as she settled over him, and silently prayed that she would keep relatively still in her newfound position. He really didn't think he would be able to withstand that kind of torture for long. Jesse may be exceptionally good at keeping his cool, but he wasn't _that_ good. Quickly composing himself, he raised a quizzical eyebrow at the unusual boldness in her actions, something that she didn't seem to be fully aware of herself.

The silent question went unanswered however, as Rachel didn't raise her gaze from her hands that were resting on his stomach. There was a look of intense concentration on her features as she struggled to voice the evolving realisation of her thoughts. Her fingers followed the sketched patterns that ran across his t-shirt, lightly tugging at the material, as if in reassurance.

Jesse wrapped his hands over her thighs in a gesture of encouragement, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Rachel…"

She shook her head, almost to herself, and he let the question drop; knowing she needed to do this her way. They sat in quiet for a moment, before he felt her straighten up slightly and finally continue.

"I know…I know that you think you maybe regret it, that you say you didn't want to hurt me –"

He watched her pause and take a deep breath, as if the words she was determined to speak required a valiant effort.

"But you did. I can't forgive you if you never ask for it. I know we don't do that; that we leave so much unspoken and implicit, but…"

Her voice trailed away into nothing, swallowed up by the pain of the past and uncertainty of the future. Jesse stared up at her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable, before he slowly raised his hand to run his thumb softly along her bottom lip and then her cheek, gently tilting her face up to meet his eyes.

"I do, you know."

Rachel studied his gaze, a sad smile on her lips, knowing that was the closest she was ever going to get; the most he would ever allow himself to show to her. With a barely perceptible nod and a shaky sigh, she moved to reclaim her place on the bed beside him. Exhaustion finally catching up to her, she leaned down on his chest, pressing in close to his side, and accidently found a sore spot.

She felt him flinch and immediately pulled back, her eyes soft with a worry that he didn't deserve.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she mumbled, touching a hand lightly to his chest. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"It's fine," he assured her, the desire to have her close more than outweighing the physical aches he fought to keep at bay. He watched as she gave a tentative smile, before carefully lying down against him again. Resting his head on top of hers and stroking his fingers through her hair, he felt her breathe out sleepily, her body slowly relaxing as her eyes slipped closed.

He winced slightly as she unconsciously cuddled tighter into him, digging into tender muscles and deepening the bruises he had already earned because of her. And yet he knew all too well that it was a small price to pay. Stubbornly ignoring the twinges of pain that objected throughout his body, he slid his arm around her waist and held her there. He smiled wryly to himself; suspecting that perhaps Rachel was always going to be his bruise, in one way or another.

It wasn't long before he felt her breathing slowly even out into a steady rhythm, as sleep finally overtook her. It was a state he wouldn't mind joining, but it was more than war wounds that were keeping him awake. Her voice echoed through his memory once more, the same words ringing persistently through his mind, refusing to be brushed away this time.

He glanced down at the sleeping girl in his arms, and the urge became overwhelming. Yet strangely, he didn't resent it. Closing his eyes with almost a sense of relief, he turned his head and whispered two silent words into her hair.

**~o~**

* * *

**AN: **Sorry this took a little while, I've been in a bit of a funk recently, which really sucks. Plus I have a bad toothache :( This was quite a hard chapter to write, but hopefully it worked out okay. I just didn't have the heart to keep them apart anymore! And no, I'm not telling what Jesse whispered; it's between them only ;) Kudos and extra Gleek points to those who can spot the song references within this scene. This update is dedicated to all my lovely readers, awesome reviewers and the wonderfully talented Valentina, whose beautiful vids inspire me so much. Thanks everyone :)

As always, I love to hear what you think.


	10. Chapter 10

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

She was officially mentally unstable.

Rachel had been over the whole thing a hundred times or more – digging away with a determination that was bordering on obsession – and it was the only explanation for her behaviour that made any sense.

She had been home and dry. She'd made a clean break, said her goodbyes and put the entire, tragic misstep behind her. She'd been thrown a lifebelt, given an out, a chance to put her world back on the right track – but had instead turned to jump straight back into the dangerous rapids she had just escaped from. She shook her head, a dark humour twisting her lips. She really _was_ a masochist. Maybe she was already too far gone to be saved. She was like an addict: hooked on the worst kind of vice and utterly bent on destroying their own life.

She dimly recalled falling asleep last night: the comforting feel of his arms wrapped around her, holding her close against him; the warmth of his body beside hers and the irrational sensation of contentment that had settled over her in her last conscious moments – like she was somehow right where she was supposed to be.

She had woken to find him gone.

Rolling over and stretching out her sleepy limbs, she had reached blindly across the pillows and touched cold, empty air. Blinking her eyes open with a frown, she had a sudden moment of disorientation; unsure whether she had just imagined the whole encounter after all. Her chest tightened and a black pit formed in her stomach as she struggled to comprehend the cruelty of her own mind – how it could taunt her with such a vivid dream; how it could mimic his presence with such seductive clarity.

Hauling herself up, she rubbed a hand roughly across her eyes and tried to clear her foggy thoughts, ordering herself to get a grip. It was then that her gaze had fallen upon the bowl and cloth by her bed, the discarded antiseptic bottle on her nightstand, and the full memory of the previous night had rushed back to her. The solid proof that laid her doubts to rest, only to rouse up a fresh assault of confused emotion in its place. He'd really just upped and left. Rachel tried to curb the sting of hurt and resentment at the realisation, tried to tell herself that she shouldn't have been surprised, but that didn't stop her heart from pinching inside her chest – wound up tight with knots of worry and regret.

The grey light of pre-dawn was only just starting to creep into the dark sky outside, and she wondered vaguely what time it was. Still bleary eyed, she shuffled over the bed and threw out a clumsy hand to pull her digital clock closer and accidently knocked her cell phone to the floor. It was as she leaned down to retrieve it, that she noticed the blinking light.

_Didn't want to wake you._

She felt her lips curving in warm relief as she read over the message, her whole body relaxing even as her heart skipped faster, and she didn't know exactly why. It was hardly an undying declaration or a romantic Shakespearean sonnet, but somehow that simple text held equal meaning just then. It was an unspoken promise that he didn't intend to just slip away into the night again; a subtle acknowledgement of the changing foundations of their relationship.

Rachel blinked, stumbling over her own thoughts. The word had slipped through her mind unbidden, bringing with it a sudden swell of panic and doubt as she tried to correct herself. How did this happen? When had this stopped being a destructive mistake and become a relationship again?

Thankfully, she didn't have much time to dwell on this troubling new twist as her dads knocked on her door just a short while later, popping their heads in to say a last goodbye before leaving for the airport. Perhaps it was a good thing Jesse had left when he did, she realised suddenly. It would have been more than a little awkward if they had come in to find her sleeping in Jesse's arms; a boy neither of her dads harboured overly fond feelings for. She'd never told them about the egging but they'd been quick to gather that the relationship hadn't ended on good terms, and it would be rather hard to explain his presence back in her life – let alone in her bed.

And so she'd hugged them tightly, wished them luck at the conference, smiled and promised them she'd be careful. They promised they would text her as soon as they landed safely, told her to have a good week, before with a last kiss and embrace, they left to catch their flight.

Rachel immediately put her radio on to her favourite station, cranked up the volume, regardless of the early hour, and threw herself into the bathroom – desperate to drown out her thoughts for a while.

_/o/_

The school day passed in a bit of a numb haze for Rachel, wandering on auto-pilot from class to class, hoping that no-one really noticed or cared that she was taking a back seat and not raising her hand with the enthusiasm she usually showed. It took all her concentration just to make half-intelligible notes out of the endless, monotone lectures that assaulted her ears throughout the day; forcing her brain to focus through the general noise of her classmates and the exhausting mental stress that hung over her mind like a dark cloud. Schoolwork was the last thing she felt like doing, but study she would. Rachel point-blank refused to let her grades start slipping over a boy. _Any _boy.

By the time she walked into Glee rehearsal that afternoon, she knew her energy had dwindled to such a degree that not even her perfect façade of cheer could cover it. When Mr Schue came in and took a look around at the students that sat slumped across the seats, he seemed to show an unusual astuteness and actually pick up on the general atmosphere of fatigue. Rachel could practically see the tracks switch in his mind as he abandoned his usual pep talk about Regionals and instead clapped his hands together, cheerfully announcing that he thought it was about time they took a break from their set list and blew off some steam. Eyebrows shot up around the room, looks ranging from amused to suspicious passed between the members of New Directions as they considered just what their teacher had in mind.

Rachel asked the question – because she always did – curious and somewhat grateful for the distraction. No doubt the run up to Regionals had been particularly gruelling recently; the sheer pressure mounting up on them was enough alone to play havoc with anyone's nerves, and that wasn't even taking into account if your personal life was in the process of disintegrating around you.

Mr Schue spread his arms out to the club, throwing the floor open with the only edict being that it had to be an upbeat number and they were to enjoy themselves. And, well, that was pretty much like handing a bunch of fireworks to a group of unsupervised kids: reckless energy abruptly spiked and sparks flew. If there was one thing New Directions could do – it was improvise.

The boys sprang up out their seats before the girls could beat them to it, and with a quick word to the band, immediately took to the floor.

Rachel grinned as the opening chords of _'Livin' On A Prayer' _pounded through the choir room in a high octane beat that drew a loud whoop and cheer from the watching girls. Finn took lead vocals but everyone was soon singing along, bellowing out the big notes and throwing their arms up with a gleeful abandon that had them sporadically breaking down in laughter.

Patrick sidled over with a mischievous look and pulled Mercedes up on her feet first, followed almost immediately by Tina and Amelia, who tugged Kurt up along with them. Brittany clasped hands with Santana as both girls quickly jumped down from between the seats to join the performance. Quinn playfully swatted Puck away as he tried to catch her hand, before he lost patience and finally picked her up around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder, dragging her over to the floor amid peals of indignant shouts and laughter. His tactic earned him a hard smack on the arm and a reluctant grin when he eventually put her down, to which he only chuckled and pulled her closer.

Rachel's smile froze the tiniest bit as Finn reached for her hand, but she instantly regained herself and closed her fingers around his as she allowed herself to be pulled up and into his arms. Everyone belted out the big chorus and Rachel tried to force herself to relax as she sang along equally loudly, reminding herself that she was dancing beside her boyfriend and surrounded by her teammates. Yet her body didn't seem to be on the same wave-length. Flashing a quick smile and not quite meeting his gaze, she artfully twirled herself out of Finn's embrace and lost herself in the group.

A genuine grin broke across her lips as she found herself in front of Mike, who immediately pulled her in for a dance, spinning her around a couple of times before slipping into some elaborate and ever impressive steps that she couldn't hope to emulate. And so she merely watched and smiled, buoyed by his energy and eternally grateful for his ability to somehow make her laugh when she needed it most. He grinned at her enthusiastic cheering and caught her up in a quick hug which she tightly returned, before they parted again. Rachel worked her way through the crowd, dodging around Tina and Brittany who were doing some light head-banging, before finally joining the safety of Mercedes and Patrick.

She almost didn't feel her phone humming inside her pocket, silently announcing the arrival of a new message, and when she realised what it was, she only just managed to catch herself from instinctively reaching for the small cell. She concentrated very hard on keeping her smile in place, bright and perfect and carefree, even as her good mood was quickly eclipsed by familiar anxiety and turmoil. A fresh ache tore through her heart and she really didn't know how much longer she could continue to live such a double life, without ultimately losing her identity or her sanity – or maybe both.

She tried not to flinch when Finn came up and wrapped his arms around her as the song came to a boisterous end. Everyone clapped and cheered, obviously in considerably better spirits, eager and energised once more. Rachel's demeanour was rather subdued in comparison, and she knew she was letting the team down in more ways than one.

Clenching her jaw in a painful smile, she begged her body not to give her away, praying that Finn couldn't feel the knots of tension that riddled her figure. The guilt was like a living thing inside her, twisting through her chest and wrapping around her lungs, squeezing tight until she felt like she was suffocating. She could feel her mind protesting vainly against the awkwardness that seemed to grip her so forcibly around him now; a discomfort that was too similar to the one she had felt when he had serenaded her in Jesse's absence, all that time ago. _Backwards, everything is backwards._

Gently manoeuvring out of Finn's hold, she mumbled an excuse and took the chance to slip out to the corridors before Mr Schue could start the next part of the rehearsal. Following a ritual that had become almost second nature, she headed into the nearest bathroom and instantly withdrew her phone the moment she was sure she was safely out of sight.

_Working late again? Mr Schue finally decided to get tough on you slackers?_

She couldn't stop herself from smiling as she glanced down at his words. He could never resist having a dig could he? And he wondered why people wanted to hit him.

_Watch it, St. James. Actually I don't know how late we'll be. The boys just did a Bon Jovi number – Mr Schue decided we needed a little de-stressor, so ordered us to do a fun performance first. We've not started on the Regionals set list yet._

_Bon Jovi?_

She could almost see his raised eyebrow through her phone screen.

_There's nothing wrong with Bon Jovi._

_If you say so._

Simmering amusement rang through his response and she could just picture the smirk at the edge of his lips. She thought about rising above it, but he just had a gift for provoking her already over-developed argumentative streak.

_Oh right, because I suppose VA was always so high-brow?_

_At least we made an effort to be contemporary._

_So Queen, circa 1975, is your version of contemporary?_

_Classic. There's a difference._

She rolled her eyes.

_Thanks for the music lesson. Glad to see you're back to full strength. _

_Amazing what a little good medicine can do, huh? _

_Very funny. I'll take that as a thank you, shall I?_

_I was very impressed. You obviously have a latent Florence Nightingale complex – who knew? By the way, are you aware that you mumble in your sleep? I was almost blushing. _

Rachel blinked as she read through his last message, feeling a sudden heat creep up her cheeks even though she knew (or hoped) he was just teasing her.

_Liar._

_Maybe. But you'll never know for sure._

The uncomfortable part was that she knew just how true that statement was for them. She hesitated, sensing that she had lingered too long in the secret exchange but unwilling to say goodbye. Shaking her head sharply, she told her herself to stop being ridiculous and quickly typed out her final message.

_I should be home by 8. I really have to get back to rehearsal. _

_Good luck. I'll see you later. _

Rachel's gaze flickered over the words of his parting text, unable to quite place the indefinable warmth that spread through chest as she read them. It was simple, sincere and effortless; a casual reassurance that neither needed yet still offered without a second thought. Even taking into account their mutual desire to always have the last word, it was another indication of the changing dynamic between them.

A soft smile pulled the corner of her lips, almost unconsciously. It was followed immediately by a frown. She snapped her phone shut and closed her fist around it, gripping tightly as if it were the only thing tying her to reality anymore.

Rachel knew she had a good life. Well, at least the best it had been in a long time. The Glee Club had at last begun to see her as more than just their ticket to victory and more like a friend – one of them. She was bringing their little group to national glory, slowly but surely, and pulling herself up the ladder to future stardom at the same time. She was finally with Finn, the boy she had been chasing for so long; the boy she had known she was meant to be with from the moment they'd met. The boy she loved. She should be happy. She should be content.

And yet…she couldn't stay away from Jesse.

She knew all the risks, knew the danger was only increasing with every passing day – but she just couldn't seem to give it up. It wasn't like she hadn't _tried_; she'd tried so hard. She'd had every reason to turn her back and never glance over her shoulder, to banish him from her life for all the crimes against her heart. And yet here they were again, treading that razor thin line between the dream and the waking world.

She wasn't prepared to let go of her life for him, to throw it all away on a fool's chance, even though a part of her knew that it was already far, far too late for that. But she just couldn't bring herself to imagine it could ever last. She knew him better than she liked to admit, and she knew how their story was destined to end. Because it _would_ end – it always did. This was a stolen season, nothing more. He couldn't ask or expect her to give up everything she had worked so hard for. She refused to. She just had to find a way to survive this interlude until the curtain fell.

She looked down at the phone hidden within her white knuckles. She thought out to her teammates, waiting for her just down the hall. She knew where her loyalty should lie, it was a mistake she had sworn she would never make again, and yet her actions suggested otherwise: running away to secret rendezvous every night, defying her better judgement and betraying all of them.

She was so screwed if anyone ever found her phone. The thought alone was so frightening that she suddenly debated deleting every single one of their illicit texts. Rachel pulled a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. What was she doing? This was only going to end in disaster and then she would be right back at square one. Or worse.

What was wrong with her? Just what was it about them that kept drawing them back together, over and over again, stronger than all the hurt and distrust, lies and anger – binding them into each other's gravity.

Crossing to the sinks, she shoved her cell into her pocket and checked her appearance. Smoothing a hand over her hair, she straightened up and squared her shoulders as she prepared to resume her rightful role. She studied her reflection for a moment, shaking her head almost ruefully as she scrutinized the haunted eyes of the girl in the mirror.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she murmured.

Turning around without another look, she quickly headed out of the bathroom and back to real life. Pulling open the weighted door, she marched out into the corridor – and straight into Noah Puckerman.

Rachel faltered on her feet as she jerked to a stop; hastily attempting to regain her composure after being almost startled out of her skin. She narrowed her eyes at her unexpected company.

"Puck?" She spoke as normally as she could manage, hoping the edge of annoyance in her voice would conceal her guilty surprise. "What are you doing out here? Were you looking for me?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. He stood slouched against the lockers opposite, eyeing her with a thoughtful frown, and not looking the least bit amused at having just successfully made Rachel Berry jump like a frightened rabbit – something that gave her more concern than anything else.

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing impatiently as she waited for further elaboration. He gave her a long, appraising look that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. She realised he must have been waiting for her, and the thought did nothing to ease her nerves.

"Rachel, you're not knocked up are you?"

"_What?_" she squeaked, her eyes popping wide and her voice raising a few octaves higher than she'd intended.

He shrugged, apparently nonplussed by her indignant reaction. "You seem to make at least one trip to the bathroom during every rehearsal. I don't know. You just don't seem totally like yourself recently." A knowing memory shadowed his eyes, softening his gaze almost imperceptibly for a moment. "I've been through this before, remember? I can recognise the signs when I see them."

Rachel seemed to have lost the power of speech, as inconceivable as that notion was. She merely stared at him, expression frozen, blinking a little like a deer in the headlights.

Puck stepped forward, a grim set to his mouth. "Hey, if you need me to kick Finn's ass and get him to man up, I'd be more than happy."

The movement seemed to snap Rachel loose from her stupor, and she quickly shook her head emphatically, words rushing over each other as she hastened to correct him.

"No! No, it's nothing like that. I'm not…you know. At all. Everything's fine, really. I guess I've just been a little over-tired recently, what with school and Regionals coming up and everything. I mean, thanks, but it's nothing serious. I'll be fine."

Puck frowned, not entirely convinced. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, of course," she said confidently, already stepping away from him; backing up the hallway with a too-bright smile that felt false even to her.

Rachel couldn't help thinking that she would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, if her nerves hadn't already been strung out to breaking point. Hysteria was probably more of an option. She avoided Puck's eye for the rest of rehearsal but thankfully he didn't try and speak to her again. She could only hope that he would dismiss his misplaced concerns, and have forgotten about them completely by tomorrow.

Great; rumours that she was pregnant. That was _all _she needed.

Apparently she had to up her performance, watch her façade for any slips and be aware of herself at all times. She couldn't afford to attract any more attention.

Finn caught up with her in the corridor just after Mr Schue finally called it a night, and Rachel realised she may have rushed off a little too quickly. Moving to stand next to the lockers, she busied herself with putting on her jacket, doing everything she could to avoid meeting his eyes for too long.

"Hey, so are you still up for coming over to mine? I mean, I know we have that English paper to write, but we could still watch a movie afterwards or something."

"Sorry, I can't tonight. I'm actually late for a vocal lesson."

"Aren't those on Thursdays?"

"Yeah, but with Regionals so close, I decided to get some extra scheduled."

"Oh, okay."

Rachel felt a twinge cut through her gut as she realised just how well and effortlessly she could lie to people's faces now. It was hardly a skill to be proud of. Though of course, some might disagree. She glanced up and caught Finn's expression. There was a light frown on his features and he looked like he was about to speak again, but Rachel reached up and cut him off with a peck on his lips. She tried not to wince at the twisting knot in her chest, the warring instincts that shouted through her mind or the swelling burn of betrayal that hurt so much it nearly brought tears to her eyes. The worst and most disconcerting part though, was that she couldn't tell which way the tide of guilt was pulling anymore.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she promised softly when she drew back. Giving him a warm smile, she turned on her heel and moved to exit the school as quickly as she could without breaking into a full-on sprint; disappearing through the hallways before her mask could crack.

When had this happened? Rachel bit her lip sharply to keep the frantic despair and confusion at bay. When had the show face switched from Jesse to Finn? For whom did she actually have the strength to reveal herself: all masks dropped; bravado surrendered; fears and flaws exposed. It was only around Jesse that she felt relaxed these days; that she actually felt at home; like she could breathe again. Somehow the guilt receded in his company, the suffocating pressure warded off by the protection of his embrace; the ease and warmth of his presence fighting back the skulking shadows of her own conscience.

It was against all reason, and yet truth had a way of existing outside of logic.

The entrance door swung back against the brick wall with an almost violent force as Rachel blew out of the school and into the cool evening, wishing for nothing more than her mind to be wiped as clear as the vast, starless sky over her head.

_/o/_

The low music of familiar show tunes drifted lazily through her bedroom, filling the air with voices from Broadway stages past. The credits of '_Funny Girl'_ had finished rolling about ten minutes ago and she had since switched her laptop over to iTunes, which was currently shuffling its way through her extensive music collection.

Rachel was unusually quiet, lost in her own thoughts, as she let the chorus of famous songs wash over her in soothing currents. He didn't probe into her sudden introspectiveness, for which she was grateful; instead shifting only slightly to rest his cheek on top of her head as he continued to absently draw his fingertips through her hair. She listened with a sad smile as the opening notes of Aida's '_Written In The Stars'_ sang through her computer, and tucked herself tighter around him. They lay like that for a while longer, content in their mutual quiet; Rachel soaking in the comforting tempo of his breath as it ebbed through his body beneath hers.

"Jesse?"

"Hmm?"

She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she truly wanted to know the answer.

"Is this real?" she said finally.

She felt his fingers still against her head as he considered her question. "I'm not angry," she pressed on, taking herself by surprise with the calm truth in that statement, before shaking her head slightly. "I honestly think you've been living through roles for so long, you might not recognise a performance if you were in one anymore. But I – I have to know." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the very real possibility. "Is this just another game? Some kind of pathetic male power play? Having me just because Finn does."

She could feel him twist to look down at her, watching the way she lay curled into his chest, head resting on his shoulder and hand tangled in his.

"Do you really think that?"

"I don't know," she admitted quietly after a pause, her voice soft. She glanced down at her fingers that were entwined with his over his stomach. A frown touched her face, as if she were trying to read the truth behind her body's instincts. "I don't know what I think about you anymore."

"That's comforting." She couldn't see his eyes in their current position, but she could hear the familiar guard than ran under the tease in his voice. "And yet you bring me to your bed?"

"I didn't _bring_ you, if you recall," she corrected pointedly. "More like you invited yourself."

"Still," he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple with a smirk, "you haven't kicked me out yet."

"The night is young," she retorted, unable to help the lingering grin on her lips.

He laughed quietly, pulling her closer as she settled down against him once more. They listened to the score of '_Memory' _for a while, absorbing themselves in the beautiful music and haunting voice of Elaine Paige, as she lamented woe and heartbreak in the light of the moon. Rachel shut her eyes and could see the famous scene playing out before her; she'd only seen the show live once, but it had made a big impression.

She stirred, opening her eyes again as Jesse tilted his head towards hers and spoke low in her ear.

"By the way, I meant to ask, how did the assignment go? Just out of curiosity."

A wry smile curved her lips. "Didn't turn out quite how I anticipated."

"Better or worse?"

She turned her head to meet his eyes, studying his face for a long moment. "Not sure yet," she said at last, smiling mysteriously before she lifted her chin and met his mouth in a tender kiss.

Gravity was a terrifying force. She could feel it pulling her even as she lay there; swirling through her mind and running through her blood, heavy with inevitability. The sensation only ever intensified when she was with him: growing bolder and darker with each shared look and secret touch, until it was almost screaming inside her head – surrounding them both like a volatile magnetic field that threatened to tear itself apart. A basic rule of nature that urged her downwards as she tumbled faster, caught in a tailspin, always with the daunting promise of impact.

You could only ever fall for so long, before solid ground caught up again.

**~o~**

* * *

**AN**: Okay, you're going to stop believing me soon, but I _swear_ I picked that song for that scene before the girls did it in their '_Never Been Kissed'_ mash up! Ryan Murphy needs to stop poking around in my head *suspicious eyes* I didn't intend to be in Rachel's head for this whole chapter but it just came out that way and I didn't want to interrupt the flow. A day in her double life, I suppose. I thought it was about time for another appearance from New Directions, and a little more insight into her various relationships. Actions always have consequences and Rachel is starting to feel the effects. The outside world isn't about to just go away.

I can't thank you all enough for your continued support and kind words, they really mean everything :) I've been a little caught up in the holiday madness and I have a really stressful month coming up, but I promise I will get around to replying to everyone as soon as I can. Seriously, you guys are awesome.

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed. Reviews make the sun shine brighter ;) Happy 2011!


	11. Chapter 11

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

**~o~**_ I can hear your heart beat… _**~o~**_  
_

* * *

Rachel blinked lazily, stifling a yawn as she let her eyes adjust to the darkness that shrouded her bedroom in the late hour. The pounding rhythm of rain that had been beating against the glass when she had drifted asleep had since fallen silent, leaving the night air fresh and sky clear beyond the panes of her window.

It was funny how everything felt different in the darkness: familiar but foreign, daunting yet comforting. It could offer solace or despair; be an enemy or an ally. The night was like a curtain, falling over the daylight stage they lived on, a reprieve from the endless performance of their given roles. Protected in the shadows beyond the spotlight, only there could the players at last breathe and break, succumb to the truth of their own frailties. The darkness could swallow your fears as easily as it could create them.

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes again but found that the silence was too intrusive to allow an easy return to sleep. Her mind was too alert with unformed thoughts and there was a strange, simmering tension needling in the pit of her stomach. With a sigh, her gaze strayed to the window again. All was still and quiet to her senses, almost as if the stars themselves were hushed and waiting.

Careful not to disturb the loose arm that was still draped across her midriff, she shifted and readjusted her cheek against the pillows, her gaze soft and curious as she turned her attention back to the boy who shared her bed. His features were relaxed and peaceful now, soothed by sleep, and it made him look younger somehow. She wouldn't go so far to say '_innocent_' – she doubted that was a feat Jesse could pull off even in slumber – but it was rare to never that she had seen his defences so completely lowered, and she wished that just once she could look into those waking eyes and see the same easy contentment that surrounded him now.

A frown crossed her face as she cast her mind back, into memories that had been tinged in the red veil of anger, loss and confusion for what felt like forever, a haze that was only now finally beginning to lift. She heard the voice of a stranger she knew by name as he weaved her so skilfully into his duet; she felt the touch of a lover who would be hers if she had only allowed herself to step into his arms; she saw the angry eyes of her accuser as he scorned her heart in a crowded school corridor; she tasted the sickly tang of yolk on her lips, broken at her command and done without a flinch of regret. The last, mocking touch he had left her with.

She had seen so many masks, so many aliases from his arsenal – been seduced and scarred by his ever-changing reflection in so many ways, that she couldn't help wondering if he would ever allow himself to completely drop his guard around her. She didn't know if it was a trust he could never give away or if he truly didn't know how to live without it anymore. Yet there had been moments, even back then, that she still couldn't convince herself were merely feats of acting. Moments she had caught him watching her with darkened eyes; the unconscious grip of his hand as it lingered in hers just a fraction longer than it had to; the wounded accusation that ran under his twisted declaration of love. Whether by choice or not, Jesse had led them into an encounter and set them on a path that would change them both in ways they couldn't foresee or undo.

They were both well aware of the bitter pain that ravaged their past, yet they had shared things that somehow transcended the time and distance and bad blood that had lain between them. He had been the first boy to make her feel really _wanted_; special because of who she was – not just for her voice, not because she was a part of Glee Club, not because she simply demanded the world to see her that way. Despite what he might think, the truth was that he had been the first boy to really tempt her to the edge of her own desire, stirring a fire that she had been struggling to subdue ever since. The first person to make an unprompted sacrifice for her, to confirm that she was actually worth fighting for, even if he was to negate it all in the snap of his fingers barely a few weeks later.

The first person who understood her world and her dreams because they were his too, a shared exhilaration she had never felt before – until she had seen how that same fierce spirit in him could just as quickly betray her to heartache and humiliation. But while they had been together, while the illusion had remained unbroken, she had felt no desire to look back. For the first time in so long when she had closed her eyes, she didn't see Finn's face. He didn't fill her daydreams or command her gaze across the room anymore. When Jesse had wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled into her hair, she had felt nothing but relief and the resolve never to jeopardise this fragile hope again.

Against both their wills, he had given her a fleeting taste of something too bitter to mourn but too sweet to give up. Something real and raw had endured through the deception, lingering in the back of her throat even as everything fell apart around her.

Bracing her heart out of habit, she took a deep breath and allowed herself to delve back into those dark memories, everything that she had been running from for so long. It was time to let go.

She could recall it all so clearly. Seeing him up on that stage, in the blue and black of Vocal Adrenaline once again, gazing down at them with a cool glint in his eyes and mocking edge to his voice – it had felt like a kick in the gut to Rachel. Just like that, without a word or a hint or a goodbye, he was gone. He was no longer one of them, he was no longer hers – in one move he had cut himself off from them entirely, casting her away like a toy he had grown bored with, erasing his presence from their lives like a guest star ending his contract. She could only stare and shake her head softly, futile denial protesting through her mind, as she was forced to watch their rivals restate their superiority, Jesse slipping back into place within their ruthlessly competitive machine like he had never left. Of course, she had come to realise, he never had. Not really. In his heart, he had never been one of them, never intended to stay. Not for Regionals and certainly not for her. He had simply been killing time, waiting for the opportune moment to fulfil his purpose before leaving her in the dust just as fast as he could physically manage.

Of course it had been yet another flawless, golden performance; even Rachel had to admit that. Jesse would never give anything less. With a last snide remark, his team had filtered off the stage but he had lingered. She had felt the chill of hostile glares behind her, but both ignored them as she slowly stepped forward, breaking ranks for just a moment as their eyes locked together across the auditorium. She watched as his shoulders dropped heavily and for a second there was no trace of that jeering arrogance anymore, the indifference melting from his eyes to reveal a glimpse of something that she knew was echoed in her own gaze. Just as quickly it had hardened to steel once more, and with a final shrug he turned his back to follow the call of his retreating team, returning to where he belonged.

Rachel hadn't thought she could have sunk any lower into depression as she had that day. Perhaps it was the abruptness that had thrown her more than anything; there had been no warning, no explanation to help deal with the emotional blow. She had snapped at her teammates, cried in Mr Schue's office, wandered the halls of McKinley under a black cloud, and still she couldn't bring herself to believe this was really how things were to be left between them. Surely he owed her a last word, a chance to speak her mind? They had been willing to cross team lines for their relationship before. Granted, it was a far from ideal situation and he had handled it spectacularly badly, but this didn't necessarily spell the end if they didn't want it to. If she only had an inkling of what the hell he was thinking.

When she had seen his name flash up on her cell phone, she couldn't temper the hope that had burst through her or the smile that had spread across her face at the sight of his own. And yet there was to be no apology or excuse in their last exchange, only a grim acceptance and final riddle of contradiction left hanging in the silence. In that sunny parking lot, looking her dead in the eyes and without a flicker of a smirk, their misconceived affair had come to a brutal and unceremonious end.

Even now, looking back, Rachel couldn't tell if that had been the moment when his masks had finally slipped, or simply fallen back into place. She wondered if he even knew himself; whether he was capable of telling truth from projection anymore. Somewhere inside, Rachel couldn't shake the uncomfortable fear that Jesse would one day lose himself completely within the façade of the showman. That he would just vanish, slip away into the currents of manipulations he had created and never resurface. He would become the characters and forget he was ever the actor. If he could never learn to relinquish control, to find a way to separate himself from the roles he took on and remember who he was underneath, it was a prospect that became all too frighteningly real. The thought sent a cool flutter through her blood, and Rachel made a half conscious vow that she wouldn't let him fall victim to himself; that if the time ever came, she would break through every last one of those walls, brick by painful brick, if that was what it took to bring him back.

As she lay there, content in the stillness, she could feel the night wrapping gently around them both like a protective confidant. It occurred somewhere in the back of her thoughts that she should be tired, that logically she would soon feel the pull of fatigue again, yet both her body and mind disputed the fact. Instead she simply watched each sleeping breath as it rose and fell through his chest, studied the curve of his lips and strong angles of his face, resisting the urge to trace her fingertips across his cheek, unwilling to wake him. He really was beautiful.

Rachel chewed her lip, a blush stirring in her skin as fragments of her recent dreams filtered back to her. The more she tried _not _to remember, the more vividly the sensations came: a heady mixture of memory and unleashed imagination. The echo of his hands, the ghost of his kiss and no will left to fight – a reckless indulgence that was getting harder to wake up from; a private torment that made her almost afraid to close her eyes. A predicament that was hardly helped by his presence so close beside her these last few nights.

A bemused smile tugged her lips as she let her gaze roam over his face. She had thought she'd had him figured out. Well, in the sense that she had given up trying to unravel his troubled psyche, cast him away under the blanket title of _heartless bastard_, and moved on with her life, more than happy to never set eyes on him again. She had realised that she couldn't trust his words or understand his actions, and left him to be damned by his own selfish moral code. She thought she had at last known him for what he was.

That was, until he came back.

And the memories had returned in full flood with him. Doubt had resurfaced, old desires kindled anew and scripts ripped away in the eye of the storm. She suddenly wondered if he had regretted it: the decision to return. It was always so hard to tell with him, his actions ever at odds with his meaning, his motivations a mystery perhaps even to himself. He had re-entered her life just as abruptly as he had left it, turning her world upside down all over again, the ground shifting beneath her feet under the pressure of unwavering gravity. She had thought she'd known what she was getting into, prepared herself for the inevitable outcome, but once again he was proving harder to predict than she had expected. Neither of them could have anticipated the turn of events they had been caught up in, and she got the distinct feeling that for possibly the first time in his life, Jesse didn't have a plan.

'_You'll never know for sure.'_

The words from the other day drifted through her mind, a throw away remark that concealed devastating insight. She couldn't deny it was a persistent truth that plagued their story – and yet for the first time she found herself able to look back at the lowest moments in their past and not flinch at the memories. She could see him and accept him for all the faults she knew of and for all the secrets he still kept; she could move past the pain she had carried for so long and explore what lay beneath, finally listening to the whispers that had refused to leave her heart.

It had always been him, she realised slowly. The unspoken guard between her and Finn that had never completely melted, that had always unconsciously held her back; a little voice in the depths of her mind that just wouldn't let her forget.

Reaching out, she brushed a stray curl off his forehead tenderly, her fingers lingering against his skin. She couldn't pretend to know what lay in their future any more than she could forget about their past, but for once the thought of the unknown didn't bother her. Maybe all they would ever have was the certainty of the here and now – and maybe that was enough. Rachel smiled softly as she felt the knowledge circle around her mind a few times before curling into a quiet thrill of conviction in the centre of her chest.

He stirred under the light touch and she quickly withdrew her hand, pulling herself out of her thoughts and settling her composure just in time to see his eyes flicker open and find hers. She watched, a little mesmerized, as that warm spark of recognition instantly sharpened his gaze and softened the corners of his mouth. No-one had ever looked at her quite the way he did.

"Hey," he murmured sleepily, taking a moment to stretch out his stiff muscles as he glanced around the near pitch black room. "What time is it?"

"A little after one."

He nodded to himself, studying the ceiling thoughtfully before turning back to face her with a quiet sigh. "I should probably go. Cover of darkness and all that," he teased. Leaning over, he closed the distance and stole a last kiss from her lips, a hint of a smile whispering through the touch, before he stood up and she felt his presence reluctantly disappear from her side.

Rachel shifted into a sitting position, her eyes following his steps as she watched him move through the shadows of her bedroom. Dropping her gaze, she absently brushed her fingertips over her mouth. The kiss had been gentle and unassuming, a silent goodbye, and not nearly long enough for her liking. The taste of him burned softly on her lips, the tantalising promise of everything she hadn't known she'd been waiting for – and she didn't want to let it go. Not this time.

Jesse moved carefully, loathed to suffer the indignity of tripping over something in the darkness as he made his way over to her desk. He paused for a moment, a slight smirk on his face as he observed the creative mess that covered the worktop, spilling around her closed laptop that took centre place. Knowing Rachel, there would be a precise order hidden within the apparent chaos, and heaven help anyone who disturbed it. Shaking his head to himself, he reached out for his jacket that lay draped across the back of the chair, and frowned in surprise as he saw a slender hand cross his vision and lightly touch his own, stilling the movement.

He turned his head and found her standing close at his side, quietly impressed that she had been the one to sneak up on him for once. He searched her face and raised his eyebrows questioningly, but she only held his gaze in silence as she proceeded to thread her fingers through his, pulling his hand away from the chair until it came to rest against her waist. Moving closer, she leaned up and found his lips again in a deep embrace that was anything but a _goodnight_.

Jesse tightened his grip around her as the kiss gained momentum, her own hand leaving his to wrap around his neck. Strong yet still unrushed, charged with the same electric undercurrent that had bound them together since the very beginning. As the touch lingered, a new intensity washed through them both: a brimming riptide on the verge of sweeping them away; a ship that would crash upon the rocks with a single word.

As they parted, Rachel looked up and felt her heart skip a beat as she saw the cautious realisation stir within his gaze. She didn't move as he lifted his hand and slowly brushed his thumb along her cheek, his fingers light over her skin as he cupped her face with the same care with which one would handle spun glass. Jesse had never been so delicate with her, almost as if he was afraid to truly touch her without restraint; to accept the consequences of a choice they had been dancing around for so long. But Rachel was neither fragile nor naively tentative – and she did not wish to be treated as such. Feeling a bolt of irrational fear that he would suddenly turn unsure, she took control with a determination that took even her by surprise. With a last glance into that piercing gaze that was still so intently focused on hers in silent contemplation, she pulled his mouth back to hers and poured everything she was capable of expressing into the delving kiss.

She found herself flashing back to their first time, standing on that spot lit stage in Carmel's auditorium: a forbidden moment of passion captured within a web of secrets and sealed with a broken promise. She had been the guileless ingénue, seduced by his song and enchanted by the rush of new feelings he evoked. He had been the player, the hired assassin who knew the game inside out and who would do whatever it took to suit his own ends. It had all the makings of a Greek tragedy and had played out in much the same vain.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Rachel's unease was soon laid to rest as Jesse quickly returned the kiss with equal force, his hands firm at her back as he drew her into his chest, pulling their bodies tight together. She didn't know who moved first, who was leading who, but when she felt the edge of the mattress press into the back of her knees, she reluctantly broke the contact and took a deep breath. Yet there was no hesitation in her eyes as she gently manoeuvred out of his embrace. Running her hands along his shoulders, she motioned for him to sit upon the bed and took a small step back.

She stood alone before him then, nervous but not scared. As her fingers moved to the top button of her blouse, she felt a tense anticipation rise up and grip her body, amplifying every pounding pulse until she could hear nothing but her own heartbeat echoing in her ears. _One, two…_ She counted each slip of fabric in an effort to calm her breathing that was getting shallower by the second. Undressing in front of him was a surreal sensation, and one that was bringing forth a hereby unexperienced rush of physical adrenaline. She looked down and tried to concentrate on the methodical action, frowning when she noticed the slight tremble in her hands, her fingers fumbling with the lower buttons as her body betrayed her to the surge of emotions she was helpless to control.

She didn't even register the action until she felt the comforting warmth permeate her skin as he placed his hands gently over hers. She looked up and found his eyes trained on her, and for once there was no hint of amusement or affectionate teasing in his expression; an intense sincerity dominating his gaze that she had rarely glimpsed before. She felt his thumb stroke across the back of her palm, brushing over her knuckles; a soothing calm radiating out from his touch. She felt the tension easing in her chest, releasing the breath from her lungs. When her composure was more or less intact again, he stayed with her, his fingers moving with her own as they steadily undid the last of the buttons. Rachel let him peel the fabric from her body, tugging smoothly until it slipped from her shoulders, falling away onto the plush carpet under their feet.

Jesse drew in a quiet breath as he let his sight wander over her. Waxing moonlight filtered through the bedroom curtains, falling upon her skin with a gossamer silver shine like stardust. Reaching out, he placed his hands firmly on either side of her waist, as if to convince himself she was still flesh and blood. His fingers curled into the soft skin, pulling her closer, and as he pressed a kiss to the dip of her bellybutton, he could feel the faint shiver that rippled through her form.

Rachel's eyes slipped closed as she fell into his touch, her fingers stroking through the curls at the nape of his neck. It was a long moment before either moved again. Finally, Jesse pulled back and stood up, his body trailing hers as he slowly brought them level again. Rachel held his eyes with a twinkle of a smile, her hands finding their way under his shirt and circling his waist to rest at his lower back. She watched those stormy eyes darken and felt her own pulse quicken, her fingers gliding over his warm skin playfully before grasping the material and edging it up. He was more than willing to aide her efforts and together they pulled the shirt over his head, where it dropped to the ground, forgotten.

Her gaze travelled over him, curious and unabashed. She pressed the tips of her fingers against his chest, precise and delicate like an artist's paintbrush, a musing concentration on her face as she traced the strong definition under her hands; soaking in the feel of his matured body, so familiar yet subtly changed – just like the rest of them.

Despite the nearly physical urge to taste her again, Jesse carefully held himself back and allowed her to study him, determined to let her take her time and go at her own pace. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to retain cool control over his wits that were threatening to vanish completely under the enticing lure of her touch.

He didn't flinch under her wandering examination, remaining still except to tighten his grip on her waist in silent assurance, holding her close inside the circle of his arms. He observed a pained shadow cloud her eyes and followed her gaze to find it lingering over the violent marks on his torso. Rachel hesitated for a moment before gently touching her fingers to the deep but fading bruise just under his ribs, and the strangely intimate gesture made his breath catch in his chest.

Jesse brought his hand to her chin, tilting her face up to capture her lips in a kiss that commanded every last ounce of her attention. The action seemed to break the mutual restraint and Rachel moulded herself fiercely against him, drinking him in with an abandon that he had never felt from her before, and it sent a jolt of urgency racing through them both. He lifted her up in one sudden move, neither breaking the embrace as Rachel wrapped her legs around his hips and let him lower them both onto her bed.

So occupied was she by his mouth that she didn't notice the path of his hand, the clever manipulation of those fingers as they effortlessly located the seam of her skirt and slid the zip open in one smooth stroke. The garment gave way easily under his coaxing, and when she felt his hand slip inside the folds of material, his palm smoothing over her bare hip, she broke the kiss with a soft gasp, her unfocused eyes fluttering open to meet his. She could swear there was a satisfied smirk hovering at the corner of his lips but she was quickly blinded again as he swiftly moved his attention to her throat. Her legs shifted restlessly against the bed, fighting the urge to kick the fabric away in impatience, a reluctant moan leaving her lips as Jesse pulled back just long enough to finish guiding the skirt off her body.

Rachel's heart was beating against her ribs in such a wild tempo that she began to fear her chest couldn't contain it. If undressing in front of him was a surreal experience, being undressed _by _him felt like a brush with paradise. Familiar heat rushed through her veins as Jesse pressed a kiss to the dimple of her knee, his hands teasing over her skin as they slowly skimmed up the curve of her thighs. She had never been so aware of her body, every acute tingle the lightest touch could provoke. It was like a feverish drug running through her system, breaking open the floodgates and laying siege to her senses. And she gave in to it willingly. Just for once, for one night, she wanted no walls between them. No defences, no show faces, no games or bravado.

Rachel sighed as she felt him lay a maze of kisses to her abdomen, her fingers stretching down and tangling in his hair with a desire that would crave his touch forever. She felt him smile knowingly against her stomach, and she didn't even care. He could be smug if he wanted to, just as long as he didn't _stop_. Her chest heaved with calming breaths and with some effort she relaxed her grasp on him. Her hands ran through his dark locks in a loving caress, eyes closed tight in concentration, before her fingertips seized once more in a drowning grip as his mouth dipped lower, drawing over the soft skin of her navel. His fingers danced idly along her hips, scorching patterns into her flesh; branding her body with invisible burns that would scar beyond salvation.

"Jesse…"

She was barely aware the word had left her lips until she felt him move, his body shifting over hers until she abruptly felt his breath upon her face. His mouth brushed over her cheek, voice husky against her ear.

"Rach, are you –"

He didn't get any further before she turned her head and firmly caught his lips with hers, a searing fire sparking through the contact and deepening along with the kiss.

That had been the last chance; the point of no return. Jesse knew he hadn't a hope in hell of pulling back from her now. It had taken every last shred of his willpower to form the words in the first place – his self control wasn't unbreakable. He was still only human after all. A wry smile curved his lips against hers. _And a very flawed human at that._ But here he was: in the embrace of the only person who had suffered through the tempest and still let him back into her life. Someone who had seen him at his worst but would still give herself to such a person because she saw something else there. The whole thing was unprecedented and a little daunting – but suddenly he didn't feel quite so damaged. They were in this together, for better or for worse.

Her lips parted eagerly under his, urging him deeper, falling faster. Jesse suppressed a moan as he felt her respond just as hard, her hand firm at his neck, drawing him in and holding him there, as if his taste were sweeter and more precious than a desert spring. Muted pleasure hummed in her throat as his lips trailed down her neck, her form shifting under his guiding pressure as he aligned their bodies together against the bed. His mouth whispered across her skin, raining kisses to her collarbone before moving down her chest, drawing soft sighs from her lungs that rippled through the air like tropical waves upon sand. Pulling himself up with a trembling breath, he found her face again and was almost humbled by what he glimpsed in those shining eyes.

Rachel sank into his kiss once more, her hands sliding into his hair as demanding heat assaulted her mouth. She didn't even start as she felt his arm slowly encircle her, stroking up her back to release the fragile clasp with all the ease and skill of a charming pickpocket. She didn't open her eyes as she felt his practised hands slide the straps off her shoulders, her skin igniting where his fingers skimmed down her bare arms, raising shivers up and down her in his wake.

She felt him pull away then, air slipping between their entwined forms, his hands stilling against her body. She opened her eyes nervously to see him taking her in with acute focus, his gaze darker than the midnight sky that stretched outside her bedroom; black with want but warm with something like awed tenderness. She almost blushed under his examination, her lips parting to speak, to fill the moment of quiet like she always tried to do when awkward, but he quickly found her eyes again, a soft smile turning up the edge of his lips as he leaned in to meet her again, stealing the words from her mouth before she could utter them.

Rachel felt a swell of nervous anxiety as the difference in their relative experience bolted across her mind – and yet she felt safe in his hands. His touch was firm and demanding, his body strong over hers; he was in control and she allowed him to lead them, guiding and coaxing her through natural motions as her body reacted to his.

Her heart was racing, her soul flushed with a raw desire that she had never dared to acknowledge before, her whole being waking up in new sensations. She suddenly tensed, a broken breath catching in her throat as she felt his hand move to grip her thigh, the kiss of his fingers as they wandered up increasingly sensitive skin, slowly easing her legs apart. She moaned his name softly, a tight frown on her face as she struggled to control the painful anticipation that swept through her.

She felt the comfort of his voice more than she heard it, the low murmur echoing through her like the rolling thunder of a summer storm.

"It's just me."

The words were exhaled deeply into the crook of her neck, and they were the most beautiful ones she had ever heard.

"I know," she breathed, almost to herself. She knew it with every fibre of her being – and it was all she would ever want.

He pressed his lips against the pulse in her neck, his warmth surrounding her like a burning sun, protecting her from the icy void of space. "Please…let me…" The strained note in his voice nearly broke her heart; he had her at his mercy and still he asked, still he waited.

When she found that words had deserted her, she gave only a jerky nod in response, letting her body do the speaking for both of them.

Rachel lost her breath, a soft cry on her lips, her back arching against the bed as the sensation of his teasing fingers ripped through her in electric shockwaves, shooting all the way down to the tips of her toes. It was just…so much…_more_. Her dreams hadn't done him justice. Not even close. She clung tighter to him, as if she could draw him under her very skin and breathe him into her blood. His touch sang through her body, the sweetest melody they'd ever shared, and she gave a shuddering gasp as she felt him deftly push and twist with those musical fingers, exploring her in a reverent caress that set her nerves on fire.

It was almost too much. Her hands gripped at his shoulders, searching for an anchor and desperate to let him know the effect he was wreaking on her. She ran her fingers down his spine and back up, her nails raking against his smooth skin as she staked her own claim upon his body. Her hands stole over his back, savouring the contact, etching secret words into him with her fingertips, a language that could never be spoken. She felt his muscles tighten under her roving touch, fighting an internal battle that he wouldn't give up. Not yet.

She smiled at the thought that she could return the torture, but was soon caught off guard as she felt him move, her eyes fluttering open with a sharp breath as he leaned over her, bringing their hips together. She trembled as his hands covered her skin, tenderly tracing the most sensitive peaks and contours of her body with slow, adept strokes that resonated through her like lingering piano notes.

Rachel knew she would gladly let him study her forever, relishing the simmering intimacy as he memorized every nuance and quirk of her figure like an open book. Yet she found herself confronting a deeper instinct inside herself, one that was blazing through every cell in her body, one that she didn't think she could assuage much longer. A dizzying thrill raced down her spine as his thumbs circled the swell of her breasts, palms and fingers cupping her hot skin as he mapped every inch of her. His touch was like ambrosia, the one taste she could never get enough of, the only thing she longed to rediscover over and over again. The desire burned hotter, threatening to swallow her completely, as his mouth followed the lead of his hands, teasing and fervent, wandering over her as he explored the sweet clefts and gently sloping curves of her form.

Heat pulsed through her and she arched into him unconsciously, lost in the heady temptation of his close proximity. Jesse groaned low in his throat, body tensing, the reflex making him bite down against the soft flesh of her neck. She sucked in a breath at the sharp pain before he quickly turned it into a gentle kiss. Rachel felt a swirl of quiet awe at the effect she had on him. It was an addictive feeling, the sounds she could elicit from him, the reaction of his body to her touch. A coy smile lifted her lips. She wasn't going to let him have all the fun.

Her hands trailed down his stomach, feeling the toned muscles contract at her touch, until they reached the button of his jeans. She kissed his bare shoulder, running her lips along the strong lines of his body, fingers tugging insistently. She wanted him – _all _of him. The need was almost unbearable and swamped her senses with unforgiving force. He breathed her name, something cracking through his voice that she'd never heard before; a rough surrender that made her want to cry with relief. His hands took over from her fingers, his mouth falling on hers as he quickly pushed her back, leaning down to press them close together. The feeling of skin on skin was intoxicating, and it was her undoing. She tilted her head back against the pillows with a shaky sigh, giving him full access to her throat as he pressed kisses under her jaw line.

His knee slipped between hers and her legs coiled around his hips, locking them tight against each other. She felt his lips warm on her breast, her neck, brushing under her ear with mute whispers that pounded through her core, the last thing she ever felt before he shifted in one firm move and her world abruptly shattered in blinding, burning sensation. She inhaled sharply, tensing so violently that it physically shook her. His mouth swiftly covered hers in a bruising kiss, absorbing the shuddering sob that wracked her body.

She moaned into his mouth, uttering his name in a cross between a plea and a promise. Coherent thought abandoned her and she was aware of nothing but the feeling of _him_, so close, surrounding her and filling her senses in every way: his racing heart echoing through his pulse, his burning skin against hers, the soft murmur in his throat, his breath in her lungs as he kissed her – a connection that went so deep it hurt.

And god, it _hurt_.

Jesse remained still as he held them together with a focused strength, concentrating solely on the taste of her lips and the biting sting of her nails digging into his skin. Holding her securely until the trembling subsided, waiting until he felt her slowly begin to relax her vice grip on his shoulder blades. He could feel every quiver that shook her body inside his arms, shivering under him; he could hear the shared meter of their breathing as it undulated through the air between them: quick and shallow, hard and deep. Her body tight around him, wrapped so close in his embrace.

Pressing his forehead into hers, Jesse felt his restraint waning dangerously fast, the urge to lose himself in her becoming almost overwhelming. Just then her eyes finally opened to meet his, something infinitely tender shining in those liquid depths that pierced straight through his heart. It lasted only a moment, too many emotions filling her gaze to decipher, burning dark with pain yet bright with breathless wonder. She arched her neck and found his lips by instinct, a soft touch against his mouth that almost made him shake as much as her. It was a deceptively simple action that carried everything; an unspoken gesture of trust, of permission and forgiveness.

And it was more than he could stand.

Ducking his head, he caught her mouth again, deepening the kiss roughly. His hand slid along her thigh, fingers gripping her hip with a painful urgency that she savoured even as she surrendered to the blissful darkness they were tumbling into. His touch was hard and insistent against her flesh, easing her leg higher on his back, sliding deeper, and still she craved him closer. Rachel gave a muffled gasp as she felt him move, the action sending a fresh wave of new sensation crashing through her.

Slowly, they built a rhythm together; a consuming, soaring harmony that crushed the breath from their bodies and stole the pain away. Heat coursed through them both like molten metal, binding them together and melting them into one. They found a new synchronicity in each other, natural instinct and guiding touches flowing through their movements, their bodies fitting just as seamlessly as their voices as they travelled the rising and falling notes of their unfolding refrain together. A song as old as music itself.

It felt like coming together and breaking apart all at once: a star bursting into life; a planet collapsing in on itself. For a moment, gravity seemed to abandon them completely and they were set adrift in a weightless current; as if the celestial heavens themselves were breaking over them. Rachel grasped at his shoulders, her hands clenching in his hair, scrambling for purchase amongst the cascading falls that thundered through her. His mouth found hers, sealing in a kiss, his hand running along her arm to clasp her fingers tightly, pinning them back against the pillows over her head.

Rachel had always been a quick learner and Jesse was a _very _good teacher. He smiled to himself as he felt her settle into the rhythm with him, stifling his own moan against her collarbone as she rocked her hips into his. He was still navigating them through the tides of desire, but she was starting to experiment, growing bold in the fire that connected them, feeling her way. He brushed his lips against her temple in silent encouragement, their fingers tangling against the sheets, holding fast to each other through the storm as their bodies arched and moved together in the darkness.

Outside the fragile boundaries of their private world, the moon rose higher through the smoky clouds, concealing and watching over the secret lovers she protected.

_/o/_

Rachel's back hunched as she curled up tighter under the sheets, an invisible wince pinching behind her eyes. She pressed her face into the pillows and breathed deeply, lost in the waters of her own mind, fumbling to find a foothold. All was quiet behind her and she didn't know if he was truly asleep or only believed that she was.

She wasn't even sure if she just imagined the graze of his fingers. Deciding that she didn't care, she let her eyes close, a warm shiver passing over her skin as she felt the echo of his hand skim up her arm. The touch was feather light, almost aimless in its wandering, as it slowly traced the smooth slope of her shoulder and whispered through her hair. She felt the brush of his lips, soft against the curve of her neck, so tempting that Rachel wondered if she hadn't already slipped into a dream.

"You're trembling."

The low murmur washed through her like a soothing elixir; rich with emotions she didn't dare name. She pressed her lips together in effort as she struggled to rediscover her own voice, at a loss for how to possibly give words to everything she was feeling.

"I'm cold," she mumbled at last.

He said nothing in response, his hand only stroking through her hair in silent invitation. His brow creased in concern, uncomfortable guilt cutting through him at the thought of having hurt her. He'd tried to be gentle but he knew that his feelings had overtaken at points. And yet he was surprised to find that it was her stoic reaction that cut him deeper; that she still felt unable to admit weakness even after everything she'd just shared with him.

His pained thoughts quickly scattered as he felt her move beside him, turning over in the bed to huddle into him. His arms wrapped easily around her, pulling her close and folding her into his embrace as they settled together once more. Jesse felt a weight lift from his heart that he hadn't known he'd been carrying as he breathed her in, his fingers drifting absently along her back.

Rachel let out a soft sigh as she relaxed into him, seeking out his warmth as her own damp skin caught the night chill. She laid her head down on his chest, close to his heartbeat, drawing comfort from the steady, pounding rhythm that was slowly calming after their exertion.

She basked in the touch of his hand smoothing lightly over her spine, a sleepy smile curving the corners of her lips as she dwelled on the physical memories that stirred through the contact. The burn of his kiss, the taste of his skin and glide of his fingers; the sweet thunder that had broken through her as they moved together just minutes ago – everything lingered, ghosting through her body like early morning mist hangs over a meadow.

It was unlike anything she'd felt before and her mind was still reeling to catch up. A frown tightened her features for a second as she shifted unintentionally, causing her sore limbs to sting in quiet protest. Still it passed quickly enough and Rachel soon found herself trying to suppress a yawn as fatigue pulled at the edge of her consciousness with fresh determination. She was so tired. But she didn't want to sleep just now, and against every natural instinct, she stubbornly fought the encroaching darkness. She had too much to think about, still so much to understand. And yet to her bemused frustration, she came to realise that some things simply defied definition.

It was a strange paradox of existence. Souls and skin laid bare, stripped of secrets and nowhere to hide; childish vulnerability rooted next to unfurling new strength; the sensation of knowing another person so completely. It was like being caught on a plateau between two worlds, and it made her feel older and younger all at once.

The guilt, doubt and troubles would come crashing back soon enough, but right now she felt only his body tangled in hers, gathering her in and holding her tight, and she was purely content.

He was gentle now, worn out and spent; passion sated and calmed to a simmering warmth rather than the explosive heat that had just burned them both so painfully. She could still feel the pressure of his fingers, digging into her hips in a possessive embrace that would inevitably summon fresh bruises upon her skin; yet they were marks she would willingly live with, paling by comparison to the bruise that was slowly healing inside her heart. Rachel closed her eyes, her body humming with the memory: his mouth strong and intent on hers, the magic of his hands and the dull ache they had explored together; a slow throbbing that silently claimed her as _his_. Her first. What he would always be now.

She inched her fingers thoughtfully along his skin, stretching out against his torso, unable not to admire the ease and confidence with which he carried himself; a bearing that came only from one who had lived their whole life in a spotlight. He was always so sure of himself, always perfectly comfortable within his surroundings. Even now, lying together in her bed, there was something innately relaxed and quietly authoritative in his air, like he somehow belonged there; as if he always had. Rachel felt a sudden bout of inexplicable shyness creep over her. It was just too unreal: lying here so peacefully with the only boy who had broken and stolen her heart in a single breath; her body beside his that he knew every inch of now, had touched and shared so closely.

It was nothing like Rachel had imagined her first time. It was painful and deeply consuming, forged in fire and need, demanding force and teasing pleasure. It was sweetly dark and piercingly light, slow and urgent all at the same time. It was something irreversible; a searing brand across her heart that would wound forever. It was something strange and intense: to be lost in yourself and found in another.

A soft smile spread across her lips and she felt her eyes slip closed, lulled by the familiar, warm scent of him that surrounded her like a caressing touch. It was no romantic fantasy or idealised fairytale, but it was real and true, and it meant so much more.

"Jesse…"

It sounded like a question but the sentence was never finished. He felt her breathing slow and deepen against his chest, pulling the words away into the darkness as she reluctantly gave in to the will of her body, sleep finally claiming her inside his arms.

There were a hundred different ways that question could have ended and Jesse couldn't bear to contemplate them, let alone what his responses might have been. He tilted his head away and frowned at the veiled night that stretched beyond her window, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles over her skin.

He'd always suspected that Rachel Berry would be different.

That much had been apparent very early on in their relationship. An ironic smile tightened his mouth for a moment as the memories played through his mind. Everything had been unexpected with them, not least his own feelings. He could never have imagined what he was letting himself in for that fateful day he had so blithely agreed to Shelby's 'request'. Naivety was never something anyone could have accused him of, and yet he had proved himself ultimately unprepared for a world that he had never truly felt a wish to enter before.

Perhaps he'd finally met his match in Rachel Berry. The only person to ever beat him at his own game, without even trying. She'd certainly messed up all his neat plans; forced him to improvise on his feet and adopt new techniques, to raise the stakes and unwillingly drag them both into more risk. She'd surprised him at every corner, broken through his arrogant assumptions and managed to turn the tables, rewriting the rules of the game until it was impossible for either of them to claim a victory. She'd made things…_complicated._

A wry humour crossed his gaze. So much for a '_good acting exercise'_.

He should have known she would find a way to make him suffer for underestimating her. It was no mean feat to pull off what she had: to leave her song echoing through his mind, haunting his memory with her touch and smile, plaguing his thoughts with doubt and confusion. A fervent longing that crept under his skin and took hold to such a degree that he'd hated and resented the agony of her lingering presence – almost as much as he hopelessly _wanted_ it.

A worthy opponent indeed. Nothing was ever simple with her. She was forever defying expectations; infuriating and unpredictable and utterly relentless. She refused to make things easy, for herself or anyone else, and it was a driving frustration that he recognised well. His flaws were hers in so many ways…perhaps too much. Too similar to be together, yet too alike to belong with anyone else. He knew that her fiery nature was just as uncompromising as his, and that in the end it would always come down to all or nothing with them.

This was nothing new to Jesse. He'd felt that rush, that surge of exquisite heat and pleasure all before; but he'd never felt _intimacy_ – that touch of another person that went beyond the physical. There'd been mutual lust and affection on both sides, but nothing like this. He could feel her sleeping heartbeat echoing his through their wreathed bodies, the soft whisper of her breath upon his skin, and he'd never felt so strongly connected to another human being in his life.

It was powerful and unnerving and it made him feel exposed in a way he'd never experienced before. And he wasn't entirely sure he liked it. More than that, he was afraid it would become too addictive. No-one should ever hold that much sway over him. Jesse wasn't dependent on anyone; he couldn't afford to be. But now she'd given him something she could never take back, something that would be his forever. He knew that this had always been a big deal for her, and it was a responsibility he'd never had before.

He sighed deeply, his own exhaustion setting in, and he was more than ready to welcome the numbing blackness. Subconsciously pulling Rachel tighter to him, he let his eyes fall shut as their bodies and breathing settled together into a timeless harmony.

* * *

**~o~**_ Wherever I am…I hear it beating_** ~o~**_  
_

* * *

**AN:** Okay, definitely one of my longer updates! I'll only say this. What would life be without spontaneity, those reckless moments of surrender. For better or worse – they make us human. This was a daunting chapter to write. Feedback always welcome and appreciated :) I also just want to say thanks so much to everyone for their support with this story so far. It really makes my day hearing from you guys. Definitely helps the inspiration! So much for being a one-shot, huh?


	12. Chapter 12

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

* * *

Rachel woke slowly, roused from the sweet bliss of her dreams into the gathering clarity of conscious thought. Her features scrunched slightly with effort as she defied her protesting body and finally pried her eyes open, squinting as she took in the creeping grey light of morning. The space beside her was empty once more, though his warmth and touch still lingered – in her bed, on her skin, an intimacy that was weaved into every part of her now. Her gaze lifted, moving beyond the tangled sheets, finding him easily where he stood even though he made no sound.

She was quietly surprised to find him already dressed but she said nothing, only watched in silence as he straightened up and let the shirt slip down over his back, hiding his body from her appreciating eyes. She smiled a little as she soaked in the comfort of his presence, surrounding her in memories that were confirmed by the sharp twinge in her muscles as she moved to prop herself up on her elbow. She knew he felt her gaze following his movements and the smile turned almost shy, the echo of last night passing over her like rays of dawn breaking through clouds.

He turned around caught her staring; something that she made no effort to conceal as she finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Hey," he said softly, a hint of that knowing smirk back on his lips.

"Hey," she murmured lazily, her voice thick with sleep. "What time is it?"

She didn't miss the amusement in his gaze at the reversal of lines from the previous night.

"About six."

She nodded absently, still drinking in the rare but deeply irresistible sight of a sleep-mussed, dishevelled, less than perfectly attired Jesse St. James. It was definitely something she could get used to. His clothes were crinkled and the unruly curls of his hair were rumpled in such a way that made her want to run her fingers through it all over again. His eyebrows arched a subtle inch, the corners of his mouth twitching, and Rachel found herself fighting back an absurd blush at the way he could so easily read her thoughts. She mentally rolled her eyes. As if his ego wasn't big enough already.

She watched as he turned away and crossed the floor to her desk, a gentle frown falling over her face at the realisation of his actions. "You have to go now?"

He shrugged his jacket on and looked back at her, a wry quirk in his smile. "Unless you want me to give you a ride to school?"

School. Finn.

_Oh god. _

Numbness closed in on her with frightening speed, blinding her to the surrounding world. It was as if a gaping void had opened up beneath her feet, an abyss rushing up to swallow her mind in the swirling black waters of dread and panic. She was barely aware of Jesse as he walked back to her side, closing the space between them with a quiet purpose. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused as he leaned down over the bed, bringing their faces level once more. She blinked slowly as he touched his hand to her cheek but couldn't force her eyes to meet his; trapped somewhere between a dream and a nightmare. She missed the tenderness that sobered his expression, the grim look that shadowed his features as he observed the effect of his words.

His lips met hers in a soft kiss, gripped by instinct and his own helpless sense of frustration. For the longest moment Rachel didn't respond, seemingly frozen and locked inside the walls of her own purgatory. Jesse was just about to pull away from the fleeting touch when she slowly curled an arm around his neck, pulling him closer and returning the embrace with a barely subdued edge of desperation that wrenched deep inside his gut.

Rachel clung to his warmth, to the comfort of his touch, like it was the key to her salvation instead of a curse of damnation. She wanted to disappear inside his kiss, hide within the darkness of their shared memories, drag him into the protection of her dreams where the outside world couldn't hurt them. She didn't want to wake up from this. She buried her face into his neck and breathed him in: the subtle smell of his hair and shirt; the memory of his arms wrapped around her and his heartbeat lulling her to sleep; the feel of him on her skin, everywhere…

She found his mouth again in a slow caress, her hands digging into his nape, unwilling to surrender the solid safety of his grounding presence. While he stayed, while they were here together, she could linger a little longer in the surrealism of limbo. Rachel was terrified of being alone with her thoughts right now.

But the world can not be kept at bay forever, and the march of time is indifferent to the pleas of parting lovers.

Jesse moved to pull back and Rachel mumbled a sound of dissent, tightening her hold on him. She felt him chuckle as he gently pried her grip loose against her silent protests. He brushed a light kiss over her lips, the smiling whisper warm against her cheek.

"_I must be gone and live or stay and die_."

Rachel laughed despite herself, rolling her eyes affectionately at the aptly chosen (if typically over-dramatic) farewell quip. Jesse leant his forehead into hers, his thumb skimming over her jaw – and then all too soon, she found herself facing the lonely silence of her empty bedroom once more.

_/o/_

It had been forty minutes since Jesse had taken his leave and Rachel had spent the majority of the intervening time under the scalding jets of her shower. Her hair was washed and conditioned, her skin rich with the scent of exotic blossoms, yet she was operating entirely on auto-pilot and had no real memory of even stepping into the bathroom in the first place.

She didn't know how long she stood there, struggling to breathe through the thick steam, quietly drowning in the tears that stung her eyes and clouded her vision until she was all but blind. A hiccupping sob caught in her throat and she lurched forward, fingers fumbling and slipping against the wet tiles as she willed herself the strength not to crumple. No, she _wouldn't_. Her arms trembled with the effort, her head bowed low under the raging torrent, dragged down by the weight of her sodden hair and crying heart. Her body shivered as she fought to control the tears that poured down her cheeks, the salty tracks indistinguishable upon her drenched skin, yet burning her hotter than the scalding water ever could.

There were so many reasons behind those tortured tears, so much longing and confusion, but all centred around two impossible boys. What had she_ done?_ Everything was standing on a knife edge and what was even more frightening was that Rachel didn't know what she was supposed to do now. Her emotions were a mess, ripping through her body in raw waves of extremes, and the normally calming forces of focus and determination had only the most tenuous of grasps on her mind. The thought of facing the new day looming on the horizon made her feel sick with anxiety, clenching her stomach up in knots. The idea of walking back into her old life with that perfect smile masked over her face again – forced to act as if nothing had ever happened, to pretend that she was still the same girl she had always been – was painfully unbearable.

No, she didn't want that. Not anymore. Rachel let out a ragged breath and the misty, condensed air rushed into her lungs, making her cough. She noticed that her skin was turning an unhealthy shade of pink with the prolonged exposure to the boiling power jets, the tips of her fingers puckering slightly, and a grimace pinched her brow. She didn't want to step outside the walls of this cubicle and face what was out there, the crossroads and heartache that lay ahead of her. It was too daunting, too overwhelming, and it scared her in a way few things truly did. She closed her eyes and let the furious water pound out the noise of her chaotic thoughts. Inside the narrow, steamy shower – things were safe. Her world was small and simple and manageable.

But it couldn't last.

With a sigh, Rachel finally reached out and turned the dial around until the pressure eased to a trickle before stopping altogether. Her limbs moved automatically and she didn't bother to fight them as her feet stepped onto the bathroom mat and her hands moved to wrap the soft towel around herself, guiding her through the normal morning rituals with a numb mind.

She dressed carefully, mindful of the tenderness of her body, the new ache within her that still caused her to wince occasionally. Her fingers brushed tentatively over the marks on her skin, warm with the memory of his embrace, examining the small outward changes that betrayed the defining emotional one she felt inside. Yet she was grateful for them in her own way; the only physical reminders she had of everything they had been through together. The irreversible claim of his touch, the lingering echo of his mouth and hands and body over hers…the only proof she had that he had ever been there at all.

Maybe the daylight couldn't steal everything from them after all.

It was a lot to try and take in and it still didn't feel entirely real yet. A frown slowly crossed her face and Rachel stepped closer to the mirror. She lifted her hand to lightly finger the deep bruises that marred the slope of her neck, flinching in subdued pain even as a longing shiver coursed down her spine.

_That_ might prove a little more troublesome. Shaking herself out of the temptation of her memories, she quickly retrieved a fine, shimmering purple scarf from her chest of drawers. Standing before the mirror again, she took one last look at the forbidden scars on her flesh, before steeling her nerve and firmly wrapping the fabric around her neck. She pulled the knot tight and adjusted her hair, letting the long locks fall over her shoulders to offer extra protection from prying eyes.

She lined her lashes and swiped on some mascara to conceal the red rims of her tears, even though she was almost sure they would have faded by the time she reached school anyway. Rachel glanced over her reflection one last time, scanning intently for any missed detail that could potentially give her away. She didn't dare catch her own gaze for too long: fearful of what she would find looking back at her; worried that she wouldn't even recognise those soulful eyes anymore.

The blare of a horn on the street outside snapped her to attention once more. With a deep breath, she snatched up her bag and made her way downstairs at a quick pace. She had let the morning run away with her – she was going to end up late at this rate.

_/o/_

Rachel made it in time for school as it turned out, though only barely. Despite the objection of her body, she all but sprinted across the parking lot before flinging back the doors as she rushed through the corridors, slipping into her class just as the bell rang. Ignoring the disapproving glance of their teacher, she found her seat and sank down with a quiet sigh of relief. Detention would be the last thing she needed right now.

She was more than half tempted to try and claim a sick day, but the prospect of being left alone in that empty house for hours, deafened by the accusing silence, was agonizing. She would go out of her mind. She needed the distraction; she needed to cling to what little normalcy remained in her life. Rachel organised her thoughts best with the adrenaline of activity, and predictable routine was the only thing keeping her sane right now.

The burden of guilt was something she had become intimately acquainted with in recent days, but never had it been quite so acute, quite so suffocating. She needed to talk to Finn. The thought alone was enough to propel her heart into palpitations, but she refused to let her resolve be shaken by selfish cowardice anymore. It was the only possible course of action left for her now; the only way she could see out of their twisted web. It was the only thing that could bring all this to an end – one way or another. She was so tired of running. From him; from Jesse; from her own fears and feelings. She wanted her world to halt spinning; she wanted to remember how it felt to stand on solid ground again. She just wanted it to stop.

Though what she was going to say to him – she had no damn clue. Rachel slumped lower over her textbook, hoping it would be enough to conceal the fact that she hadn't written a single line in the past fifteen minutes of her history lecture. How could she even begin…how was she supposed to fix this? Everything was up in the air, just waiting to crash and shatter around them, to break their lives into pieces that couldn't be put back together. For god's sake, she didn't even know where things stood between her and Jesse. Not really. He'd left this morning before they'd had a real chance to talk, to deal with the aftermath of their choices. Maybe he didn't want to even try. Jesse would always be a closed book, always protect himself first. Had she been kidding herself all along? Had she already thrown everything away? Rachel ground her teeth together, biting her tongue to hold back the prickle of tears that threatened to blur her vision. What was she _meant _to think?

Finn would never forgive her. The thought of the betrayal in his eyes, the resentment and hurt, all caused by _her_… everything she had sworn to spare him. Rachel winced as a spasm shot through her chest, knotting around her heart, and quickly drew in a steady breath to try and relieve the pressure. Could she really do that to him? But she couldn't say nothing, couldn't keep silent and hope it all would just go away or go back to normal. She could never return to the way things were, the girl she was just last month, even if she truly wanted to. There was no simple solution, no easy way out – events had gone too far already. Things had gotten too deep, too involved. There was no walking away from this intact anymore. Rachel knew she couldn't change what had happened, how she had chosen to handle the whole heartbreaking dilemma, as much as she wished it otherwise. She suppressed an ironic laugh as she reflected on how hard she had fought to keep her life together only for it all to be in vain, undone by her own hand. Nor could she control what was to come next – where the debris would fall in the wake of the storm. All she knew for sure was that it was too late. It was too late to save any of them.

Her mask was finally cracking, the weary will to maintain it fast deserting her and surrendering to the inevitable.

She navigated the crowded hallways between her classes with her head bent; doing everything in her power to keep a reign on her heartbeat that was hammering out an unhealthy rhythm in her ribcage, seized up tight with panic. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her body, his breath over her lips; every throb in her muscles an intimate reminder of the bitter paradise they had shared. She could feel it burning through her skin, ingraining deep into every nerve, changing her all over again in the most fundamental of ways.

The new world they had opened up together was entrancing and almost daunting, and yet she somehow felt as if she had been waiting for it forever. She couldn't define or explain the exact feeling, but there was no denying the irrevocable step they had taken or the effects it had wreaked on her, inside and out. She just felt… _different_. Rachel kept her gaze cast down, avoiding the eyes of her classmates, as if afraid that people would be able to tell just by looking at her. She flinched at every corner, terrified her guilty body would let her secrets slip to any passing onlooker she ran into.

The raging rollercoaster of emotion coursing through her was beginning to make her dizzy. Never in her whole life had she felt so wretched and so elated at the same time. She wanted to smile until her face hurt; she wanted to scream until her legs buckled. It wasn't fair! It wasn't meant to be like this. This was supposed to be one of the best days of her life. How could something feel so right and still be so wrong? It was like being stuck half-way between heaven and hell, driven mad by your own mind.

Rachel managed to dodge her teammates for most of the morning, easier in some cases than others, and was immensely thankful that she didn't share a class with Finn today. She needed more time before tonight to form a plan, to prepare her words and get her head together. She succeeded with this course of action until early afternoon, when she was cornered by Kurt on her way to French class.

"Why, if it isn't our elusive leader," he drawled sarcastically. She narrowed her eyes and Kurt smiled to show there was friendly humour within the mockery. "Where have you been anyway? We missed you at lunch."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You did?"

"Well yeah, it was hard _not _to notice. People actually managed to get a word in edgeways with the conversation. It was eerie."

"I went out," she explained, shrugging her shoulders in a perfect imitation of nonchalance. "I didn't have time to make something before I left the house this morning and I wasn't in the mood for cafeteria food."

In truth she had not eaten a thing all day, her appetite all but gone in the nest of nerves that tied up her gut. Kurt inclined his head in dismissive acknowledgment.

"Can't blame you for that, I suppose. Sometimes I think Hannibal Lecter would struggle to keep our school meals down." He frowned and picked an invisible thread off his jacket cuff. "Oh, Finn was looking for you by the way."

"Okay, thanks," she replied noncommittally, grateful Kurt's attention was less than fully focused on her currently. She made a show of looking at her watch, doing her best to ignore the waves of anxious nausea that rolled through her stomach. "Probably just wants me to check over his English essay before Monday."

"Probably," he agreed with a suffering sigh. "Maybe it would be easier if you just did his homework for him."

She laughed. "Yeah, because I'm really _that_ much of a pushover."

He caught her eye and the two shared a knowing grin of genuine warmth – and for a brief moment, Rachel felt minutely better. True, she and Kurt may be mutually accepted diva rivals, and their relationship had been strained at the best at times, but they still had their moments. In a strange way, Rachel actually trusted him the most out of her fellow Glee clubbers. Maybe because he was the one most like her. He knew how it felt to be a lonely outsider, condemned for just being you, for daring to be different. Perhaps there was an understanding and grudging affection buried deep down between them, beneath all the friction and aloof distain. Maybe they would even dig it up and bring it out into the open one day. Maybe.

Rachel fingered her bag strap and glanced over his shoulder distractedly. "If that's all you wanted to stop me for, then I'd better get to class. I'll see you guys in rehearsal."

"Yeah, sure."

She glimpsed the frown that crossed his face as he cast an appraising eye down her attire. His brows creased in confusion or possibly distaste.

"What?" she snapped impatiently, knowing it was best to get his fashion critiques out the way as early in the day as possible. He always had_ something_ to say. It was a compulsion of his that she had grown to accept.

He waved a hand towards her throat. "What's with the cowgirl neckerchief look?"

She touched the knot at her neck self consciously, before quickly yanking her hand away again. "Just felt like trying something different," she said with a shrug.

Kurt made a face. "You can't pull off scarves."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

_/o/_

Looking up, she stole another glance at the clock behind Mrs Peterson's desk and instantly fought the urge to groan. The end of school and subsequent Glee practice was approaching with far more speed than she would have liked. It was her second last class of the day and she had finally given up trying to absorb any new information during the previous period. Her mind was crammed full to bursting as it was and as such, algebraic equations seemed a rather low priority at the moment.

Usually Rachel performed her best under pressure, worked hardest when faced with a deadline, but right now she felt completely lost and unprepared. It was a feeling she was unfamiliar with and one she was definitely _not_ enjoying. She was running out of time.

In her highly wired state, the silent buzz of her cell phone made her jump far more acutely than usual. Wincing, Rachel had to bite into her lip to keep from cursing out loud as she quickly pressed a hand to her leg, rubbing at the fresh bruise where she had inadvertently knocked into the desk. After checking to ensure her clumsy reaction had gone unnoticed, she cautiously dropped her head and slipped her phone into view, frowning as the single word blinked onto her screen.

_Auditorium._

Rachel only stared at the text for a long moment, refusing to acknowledge the impossible implications that shot through her mind. _He can't be serious_. No, he wouldn't be that fucking stupid. Surely? She clenched a fist in her hair until it was painful. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? It was _exactly _the kind of brazen, arrogant risk Jesse would happily pull off in a heartbeat. He got a twisted kick out of their dangerous liaisons after all. He'd already proven that more than once. S_mug bastard_. He could certainly pick his moments.

Rachel continued to fume silently for a few more minutes, until the urgency of the situation forced her to focus on the immediate problem at hand. She glanced surreptitiously at the students around her, heads bent over their own work, before turning her attention to the woman at the front of the classroom. Making up her mind, she stood up as quietly as she could and slipped up to her teacher's desk. Mrs Peterson looked up from her papers and sighed.

"Yes, Rachel?"

Despite her sometimes brusque manner, Rachel knew that her math teacher could be a soft touch if played right. As far as students went, she was one of Mrs Peterson's favourites. She did her homework assignments on time, never caused trouble in class and her academic record was beyond reproach. Well, now it was time to cash in some of those hard earned Brownie points.

She put on her best contrite expression, subtly placing her hand over her stomach and pinching her brow. "I'm-I'm sorry, but I'm really not feeling good. Could I please be excused to the Nurse's office?"

Rachel watched the shrewd concern flicker across her teacher's face as she assessed the student before her. She could almost see the normal questions and suspicions mentally laid aside in her mind as Mrs Peterson opted to take her at her word, having been given no previous cause to doubt her honesty.

"Of course."

Rachel felt a stab of guilty pride as she watched her write out a permission note, slightly amazed at the ease with which she could get away with it. She gave a polite smile as she accepted the pass that was held out to her, taking care to keep up appearances until she was safely out into the deserted hallways of McKinley.

_/o/_

She found him quickly enough. He was waiting for her exactly where she knew he would be, hands stuck in his pockets and stance just as casual as if he were merely standing at a bus stop instead of in the heart of hostile territory.

"Jesse," she hissed in irritation, scanning the shadows nervously as she hurried up to join him in the stage wings. "You _can't _be here!"

"Hey, you're not the only one who can break into a rival school you know," he retorted in a low voice, the amusement of his tone echoed in his eyes as they found hers.

Rachel shot him an indignant glare. "I never did it in the middle of the day! Are you _trying _to get yourself beaten up again?" She saw him open his mouth to correct her assessment of his last physical confrontation, but she ignored him and rushed on before he could get a word in. "If anyone had seen you–"

"They didn't," he interrupted calmly. Before she could even register the movement he had closed the distance between them, stepping closer until her body was tingling with the warmth emanating from his. He brushed his lips over her ear, the rich notes of his voice smooth and teasing. "I can be very sneaky when I want to be."

"Is that so," she murmured dryly. She was trying hard to retain her sense of caution but she was finding herself increasing distracted by the scent of him so close next to her. He smelled of soap and delicious shower gel, aftershave and the expensive leather of his car. It was a heavenly aroma and it wasn't doing wonders for her concentration. An indulgent smile crept across her lips. "I'd have never guessed."

His arms slid around her waist and her fingers found their way into his shirt. She could feel him smirk against her skin. "Besides, it's nothing we haven't done before. All this illicit drama, forbidden meetings behind enemy lines…kinda reminds you of the beginning, doesn't it?"

Rachel sighed and shook her head, unconsciously winding her fingers in tighter to the warm fabric, unable to keep the reprimand from her voice. "If they find you here…"

Jesse's eyes glinted playfully, his fingers slipping under the hem of her blouse to skim the hollow of her back. _"Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords."_ His breath sent a shiver up her spine as he recited the poetic verse in a velvet whisper against her ear. _"Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity_."

Rachel, for her part, was having a hard time drawing a deep breath. As counter arguments went, she didn't really have a comeback. She almost wanted to laugh at the pure theatricality of the moment they found themselves in. _Only Jesse_. She wondered how long he had been waiting for an excuse to bring direct quotations into their own star-crossed love story. Well, two could play at that game. She smiled into his neck, the bittersweet lines falling from her lips without hesitation, both word perfect in their scripts as ever. _"I would not for the world they saw thee here."_

"Hmm," he murmured thoughtfully, pulling back just enough to catch her gaze but not releasing her from his arms. His eyes sparkled with ironic humour. "Maybe we're closer to our literary alter egos than we like to think."

Rachel pursed her lips and quirked a cynical eyebrow. "Except _our _Romeo never forsook his name and loyalty until it was too late."

Jesse flashed her a roguish grin. "It's never too late."

"Spoken by a true playboy," she reproached with a teasing smile.

He tilted his head back with a laugh and Rachel revelled in the beautiful sound, mumbling only the mildest objection as he pulled them closer together. Her hands slid up to his neck and she struggled to curb the desire to bury her fingers deep in those messy curls and surrender to the darkness of their stolen rendezvous. A frown touched her face as she forced her fluttering eyes open once more, holding his gaze with fresh determination.

"Why are you here, Jesse?" she asked quietly. "It was a stupid risk to take. And you know that."

He shrugged. "Those are always the best kind."

She sighed, glancing away in weary disapproval. She felt his fingers reach out to touch her chin, gently guiding her head up to meet his face. He studied her eyes for a long moment and Rachel got the feeling he was searching for some unspoken reassurance, the answer to a question he hadn't asked yet. When he spoke again, the flippant humour had left his voice and his gaze was soft.

"I wanted to see you." His thumb grazed over her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Rachel blinked, taken slightly aback by the honest sincerity in his words. She was still getting used to this side of Jesse. She reflected over her own thoughts for a quiet moment. "Yeah," she said slowly. "I'm okay."

He looked unconvinced, and the pained doubt in his expression tugged at something raw inside her. "Really?"

"Yes," she assured him, more firmly this time. A warm and tender smile graced her lips. "I mean…sore," she added a little shyly. "But good."

It felt like a massive understatement for the compound of exultation and turmoil inside her, but he seemed to understand, tilting his head in a small nod. Rachel glimpsed the relief that passed through his eyes, could feel the subtle wave of tension that left his body at her confirmation. She felt the familiar burn of tears in the back of her throat and quickly dropped her gaze with a heavy sigh, hating herself for the things she had to say next.

"But we shouldn't have… Not like this. Not when things are so…confused."

There was silence for a moment, during which time Rachel didn't dare raise her head to catch his eyes. At last, she felt him touch a hand to her hair, his voice a silky caress over her skin.

"Are they so confused though?"

Rachel looked up as he ran his hand through her dark locks, gently clasping a soft wave and winding it around his fingers. She shook her head sadly.

"You can't help me with this, Jesse. This is something I have to figure out by myself."

She had to sort out everything that had happened and make her peace with it. What she wanted from him; what she felt for Finn; what she was going to do now and how she would handle it. These were questions that would affect them all, but she needed to do it her own way.

Jesse eyed the tightly wrapped scarf at her neck with a smirk. "Cute," he commented, speaking in a tone that was too amused to be innocent.

"I just need some space…some time to work things out…"

"Well, if you're really sure I can't help…" he ventured slyly. Rachel's breath hitched in her chest as his fingers slid under the knot in her scarf, smoothly pulling it loose to reveal the bruises underneath. Neither spoke in the electric pause that followed. Rachel found herself unable to move as he swept his gaze along her throat, something dark and conflicted stirring in those depths as he silently examined the possessive marks upon her flesh.

Her eyes slipped closed with a soft breath as she felt him touch his lips to her skin, tenderly kissing the wounds of passion he had inflicted just the night before. "Jesse…" she moaned in admonishment. She put her hand to his chest to gently push him away, only to fist her fingers in his shirt and pull him closer into her. The frown deepened. "Please…don't…"

His mouth didn't leave her neck, nor did her grip loosen on his clothes. All she could feel was him, the demand of his body strong and familiar around her – and the beckoning memory was almost overwhelming. His fingers moved to trace the line of her jaw, stroking her cheek and holding her captive to his wandering touch. Rachel ran her hand along his arm, well aware the intimacy of their embrace was getting out of control, but suddenly lacking the will to care.

He brought his face up to hers and their eyes met for the space of a heartbeat. Rachel dug her fingers into his back as his mouth found hers in a lingering kiss that caused her toes to curl and the last of her reservations to melt away in the heat of his touch. Jesse caught her lower lip between his teeth, tugging teasingly, demanding entrance which she eagerly granted. The kiss quickly escalated, deepening into dangerous waters, the temptation driven all the harder and hotter now that they knew what it felt like to be that profoundly lost in each other. Jesse backed her further into the enveloping curtains that surrounded them, the shadow of last night moving over them both with a frightening intensity.

"I have…to go," she mumbled breathlessly, finally forcing herself to break from him long enough to speak. She could feel him breathing hard against her as he slowly pulled back to meet her gaze, could just detect the familiar edge of control battling over the desire in his eyes, and she fought back a smile. Self control was winning out, but very reluctantly. She brushed her thumb over his temple, her fingers toying through his hair. "I should probably make an appearance at the nurse's office. Establish alibis and all that," she sighed.

Jesse raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his amusement. "You pulled that old trick?"

"How else did you think I could just walk out of class like that?" she challenged defensively, rolling her eyes. "Believe me, I was tempted to just leave you hanging. It would serve you right."

"Perhaps," he agreed with a smug grin, before tugging her closer and lowering his voice. "But you still wouldn't."

Rachel maintained a dignified silence, refusing to concede the truth in his statement, but her eyes betrayed her smile. She would always come, just like he would, and they both knew it. They might try and fight it, despair and resent the inexplicable draw that bound them together, but it would always ultimately rule them. One way or another, they would always find a way back to each other.

"I'd better get back though before they start to suspect something," she went on, determinedly ignoring the maddening smirk on his lips. Though at this point, Rachel was fairly certain she would have no need to fake a high temperature or light-headedness for the benefit of the school nurse.

"I'm just surprised they actually fell for it."

"I'll have you know that my teachers _like_ me. I've always been a good student and they know that I wouldn't abuse their trust like that." She hesitated before quickly amending, "Well, under _normal _circumstances anyway."

Jesse smiled. "Sneaking out of class, lying to your trusting teachers – I have to say I'm impressed." He leaned in, his voice soft and enticing. "Why Miss Berry, you little rule-breaking rebel."

His lips were distractingly close, his breath warm on her skin. "Yeah well," she shrugged ruefully, twining her fingers around the back of his neck. "In for a penny…"

The rest of the sentence was lost in the burn of his mouth on hers, hard and intense, as they sank into the taste of each other once again. His hands pulled the curves of her body tight against him, her fingers tangling painfully in his hair as they dragged out their heated farewell for a few more precious moments.

Both missed the faint and fleeting ripple through the black drapes, stirred so gently by a foreign hand. Absorbed and blinded as they were, the lovers remained blissfully unaware of the unwanted eyes that intruded upon their secret embrace; the turn of events that were to soon twist out of their control.

**~o~**

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**AN **Thanks so much to everyone who has supported this story so far, all the amazing people who have left such kind reviews throughout and especially for the previous chapter. You guys keep me going. Oh yeah, and have I mentioned how much I love a cliffhanger? ;)**  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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The second Rachel walked into Glee rehearsal, she knew something was wrong.

When all conversation immediately halts the moment you step foot into the room, it generally doesn't bode exceptionally well. Her purposeful stride faltered, her smile dimming, as the gazes of her teammates abruptly turned to her in a silent chorus of unwelcome. All except one. Her skin prickled uncomfortably from the sudden drop in temperate, the icy tension that seemed to scorch the atmosphere of the choir room, and she found herself coming to an uncertain stop in the middle of the floor.

_The condemned brought before the jury of their execution._

Quickly shaking the ominous thought from her mind, she forced herself to stand up straight and calm. _A true performer maintains their poise under any circumstances._ Her composure stayed carefully intact as her eyes darted over the faces of her fellow club members, struggling to read the mixture of emotion in their expressions, only faint confusion allowed to register on her own features.

"Okay," she ventured at last, attempting to keep a light note in her tone despite the crushing pressure that filled the air. She raised an eyebrow in innocent curiosity. "Did I miss something?"

"Or _someone_."

Rachel cast a soft frown towards the muttered retort but was soon distracted as Kurt spoke up from his position along the back row, hands crossed elegantly over his knees as he regarded her closely.

"You can drop the act, Rachel – as convincing as it was." She blinked in surprise, her frown deepening in protest, but Kurt carried on before she could start trying to object. He waved an impatient hand, familiar sarcasm colouring the brutal blow of his words. "Just _when _were you ever planning on telling us that Jesse St. James is back in town? Much less skulking around McKinley."

Rachel felt the floor buckle under her feet.

Just like that, she had finally crashed back into solid ground– and the impact had all but punched the very breath out of her, stealing her faithful words and emptying her mind of everything but a sharp, pounding ache of panic. _No._ With great effort, Rachel forced the air back into her lungs, fighting against the burn of objection in her chest. _How? Who-? _She shook her head numbly, desperately trying to get a grip on her thoughts and form some kind of crisis strategy. The reply was automatic, lips quick to utter a familiar denial that would ultimately prove futile.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"We're talking about you falling back into cahoots with Mr. St. Scumbag," answered an irate Mercedes, arms folded sullenly across her chest and a scowl painted on her face. "How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been harbouring a known traitor and all round selfish jerk, right under our noses? Just whose side exactly are you on?"

"I'm not-"

"Give it up, Rachel," snapped Tina suddenly. Rachel turned her gaze towards her friend's seat next to Artie, lips parted in mid-argument, only to see Tina cut her eyes away sharply, as if in disgust. "Just stop, okay? We know. Amelia saw you."

_Amelia._

Rachel glanced over to the petite girl who sat in the front row, almost directly in front of her. That rich hazel gaze met her own coolly, a hint of a satisfied smile drawing at the corners of her mouth – a silent challenge that made Rachel's stomach clench violently, her fingers twitching at her side. _When had she even…_Swallowing thickly, she quickly shoved the useless questions aside. It was all irrelevant now. The damage had already been done, and done to maximum effect. It was the ultimate tactical move, a bloodless coup, and she had played it perfectly. A mirthless smile passed through Rachel's eyes for a brief second. Perhaps she had underestimated her competition after all. She had to admit that Amelia had pulled off an underhanded ploy that would be almost at home within the ranks of Vocal Adrenaline.

A wave of anger broke through Rachel then, so abrupt and bitter that it caught even her off guard. This may be just a power-play game to her, a dirty grab for leadership, but this was Rachel's _life _that she was so casually screwing over. Did she have any real clue of what she'd just done; did she care at all about who this was going to hurt? Did she really think that turning the whole team against Rachel was going to in any way improve their chances at getting to Nationals?

Amelia nearly recoiled under the force of Rachel's glare, shifting in her seat uncomfortably, but she stubbornly held her ground in the tense stand off. She tossed back the short flicks of her hair and raised a thin eyebrow in response, her expression caught somewhere between enjoying her moment of triumph and wishing herself somewhere else entirely.

It was then, suddenly through the spiralling dread, that Rachel glimpsed her opportunity. The elusive chance to twist the circumstances of this disaster back under her control. She inwardly winced at the manipulative thought, realising just how much Jesse's influence had rubbed off on her during their time together. Still, if he had taught her anything – it was the importance of self-preservation.

Straightening her shoulders, she turned back to face the court of her accusers with fresh conviction in her voice. "I don't believe you guys sometimes. Still so quick to believe the worst, without even any proof! What makes you so sure she isn't lying?" she demanded bluntly, gesturing out in articulation. _The best defence is a good offence_. It was all she had left. Her dark eyes narrowed as she spared a scathing look in her direction, which Amelia returned unrepentantly, before switching her attention once more to the suspicious glares of her so-called friends.

"It's just a jealous trick, part of a pathetic personal vendetta, can't you see that?" she pressed on desperately, a touch of imploring shadowing her tone, breaking through the protection of her righteous indignation. "She's just trying to sabotage me – _us_ – for her own selfish reasons. All because she can't handle playing second fiddle to someone who is so clearly her superior. She'd do anything to get that solo at Regionals!"

"Boy, that sounds familiar," muttered Quinn under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Rachel ignored the interruption, shaking her head in pained disbelief. "Are you really going to take her word over mine?"

There was quiet for a moment as her words sank in, pulling at mutual memories and evoking unspoken ties of loyalty. Rachel studied the faces of her team, almost not daring to breathe as she tried to read the body language and averted eyes before her, yet all she could detect was a regret and frustration lingering just behind the hard mask of their expressions.

"Fair points," spoke up Kurt finally, surprising her with the admission. "And they might be worthy of a response if it weren't for one thing." She frowned gently and opened her mouth, but Kurt wasn't finished. He tilted his head and eyed her almost sadly, even as the words struck out like a physical blow. "Amelia has never met Jesse." He sighed, as if suddenly tired of the whole thing. "Tell us, Rachel – how could someone who has never even seen St. James before, how could she describe him so well that all of us instantly knew who she was talking about?"

The simple question was the final cut string that unravelled her riddle of protests. She blinked as her mind spun and stumbled, but turned up no more words. She didn't have an answer.

"I must say," Amelia added in a nonchalant tone that did nothing to hide the spite in her voice. "You guys looked pretty damn _friendly _for supposed archenemies."

Rachel's heart pinched like a vice in her chest. She caught the knowing gaze of her assassin and felt the realisation settle like lead in her stomach, suddenly all too aware of the exact reckless tryst her rival had stumbled upon. A sickly chill of violation swept through her, and she forced herself to look away again.

She may have known deep down that this confrontation was inevitable, but now that she had been pushed off the cliff first – she found it all just so much worse than she had ever imagined. It wasn't meant to happen this way. _Not like this_. Not before she'd even had a chance to speak to…

Rachel's eyes lifted and found the hunched form of her boyfriend where he sat at the far end of the row of chairs. She stifled a shaky gasp as all the air seemed to abruptly vanish from the room in one violent gust, leaving her suffocating in a lonely void of darkness. She could do nothing but stare at the lowered lines of his profile, struggling to curb the tears from her eyes as he silently refused to raise his head, his gaze fixed intently on his knotted hands, the curve of his back stiff and rigid. He couldn't even _look _at her.

At that moment, Rachel knew it with shattering clarity – she'd lost. She'd lost everything. It was game over.

Yet as she dragged her gaze away, she still felt herself trying to salvage _something _from the wreckage of her own bad choices, vain efforts to lessen the destruction as her world burned and imploded around them. Her voice sounded small and defeated even to her own ears, the objection wrenched painfully from her lungs, forced by the hand of her own stubborn pride.

"It's not what it looks like…"

"Right," scoffed Santana, almost sounding amused. "You sticking your tongue down his throat in the middle of the auditorium – _not what it looks like_. What, were you just trying to retrieve a gumball or something?"

"Seriously, Rachel, what the hell is going on?" challenged Tina. "You defecting to VA? Turning double agent in your spare time? Or are you just content to spill all our secrets and offer backstage passes to that traitor for old time's sake, stabbing all of us in the back just for good measure? God, I'd love to know what lies he spun you this time."

"It isn't like that –"

"Oh, yeah?" Puck interrupted her, his expression dark. "Why else do you think he would bother his ass to come back to this dump? One last favour for his old friends."

Rachel held his gaze, apprehension and distress gleaming in the depths of her eyes as she struggled to reject their assumptions, evidence battling against instinct. Their recent awkward conversation played back through her ears. Her erratic behaviour suddenly cast in a new perspective, the truth of her deception revealed. He'd been right that day he confronted her outside the bathrooms, his observations more astute than she'd previously given him credit for. Rachel had been far from herself lately, split between the gravity pull of two colliding worlds and slowly falling apart within her mind – and now he knew exactly why. They all did.

She opened her mouth to speak, but what could she say? Nothing would make this better; nothing could fix this betrayal or undo her actions. What reason did they have to ever trust her word again? Something tightened Puck's gaze, just behind the lines of anger that dominated his features. An outright contempt that hurt her much more than she would ever admit to – though she couldn't tell if it was directed at her or Jesse or the whole tragic situation.

"Are you really stupid enough to fall for this _twice_?" he ground out through clenched teeth. "I mean, he shows up here in the height of competition time and seduces you all over again, just for the twisted fun of it. How could you be so fucking _gullible_, Rachel?"

"He's trying to destroy our chances at Regionals just like last time, and he knows exactly how to exploit you and your weaknesses. Manipulating people is what he does, for god's sake! Or have you forgotten that along with your loyalty and common sense?"

An unpleasant jolt of déjà vu suddenly pierced through Rachel, prickling in her veins like pins and needles. She'd experienced this kind of intervention before.

"_If you don't break up with him, you're out."_

The suspicion and ultimatums that had haunted their ill-fated affair from the very beginning.

"I haven't forgotten anything, believe me," she muttered bitterly. "But it's different this time and it's not what you think –"

"Jeez, you're awfully keen to defend a guy who threw you away like useless trash and stamped your dreams into the ground the last time he was here."

"You know it's just another trap, another of VA's mind games, and you've fallen right for it. You couldn't have made it any easier for him!"

The barrage of assault felt like a wall crashing down over her, a tidal wave of resentment and confused pain that she couldn't control or escape. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. Furious accusations cut into her skin like poisoned arrows; words of doubt and guilt overcrowding her mind until she wanted to grab her head, cover her ears and close her eyes – anything to catch her own voice once more amongst the echoes of the damning judgment cast down on her.

The team. It was always about the team. In their eyes, she had betrayed them all and thoughtlessly compromised their competition hopes with this traitorous fling. They couldn't see beyond the threat of his reputation and were deaf to all her protests. _People in glass houses…_ Her ultimate offence was against them, and apparently it was unredeemable. The reaction was devastating but predictable, they were all just as self-absorbed as each other. Shock and disbelief had quickly given way to selfish, if justifiable, anger. An emotion that Rachel was now prepared to repay in kind.

She sighed heavily and felt herself shaking her head in frustration, more firmly than before, as she met their faces with a stubborn glare. "Frankly, this has nothing to do with you or New Directions," she shot back, interrupting the flow of hypocrisy with a surge of sharp determination.

An outbreak of incredulity greeted her words.

"Like hell it doesn't!" snapped Mercedes. "Here we are, three weeks before Regionals, and we find out that you're screwing around with the lead saboteur of our biggest competition. _Again_."

Her teammate's argument was backed up by scattered nods and murmurs of agreement, but Rachel remained adamant. She kept her voice calm as she folded her arms tightly, a gesture that was more for comfort and protection than a show of strength.

"This has nothing to do with Vocal Adrenaline either."

The name alone of his old team caused a painful twinge in her chest, but with a deep breath she suppressed the tomb of memories that lay buried under that particular gravestone. In her heart, she already knew that those hurtful ghosts had finally been laid to rest. At least between them.

"He's not with them anymore," she revealed softly. "He's cut his ties."

Santana threw her a faintly mocking smile. "Isn't that what he said the last time?"

"His loyalty is _always_ going to lie with Vocal Adrenaline," Artie reminded her quietly, something almost sympathetic in his gaze as he regarded the defiant girl before them. "How many times does he have to prove it before you accept it? He's always just done and said whatever he has to in order to get what he wants. It's what makes him such a valuable spy."

"At least we have them worried," piped up a musing Brittany from her place beside Santana. "I mean, if Goolsby decided to call in the big guns again."

Rachel hesitated but stood her ground, refusing to let them see the sting of their words. "He's not working for Vocal Adrenaline; Goolsby didn't call him back here." She had to make them understand this if nothing else; break at least a little bit of history's dark stranglehold. "Trust me, he isn't after New Directions."

Though what exactly he_ was _after, she was still unable to say for sure.

"How can you believe that?" demanded Quinn. "You've always been snowed by him."

Rachel winced despite herself at the pointed reprimand. She pressed her lips together and had to bite back the words of her response, unwilling to reveal the circumstances of the fight Jesse had gotten into, still trying desperately not to give everything away in this circle of interrogation.

The newest members of McKinley's Glee Club sat fairly quiet throughout the explosive exchange, eyes drifting between their teammates with varying degrees of intrigue and confusion. They only knew vague stories of the Vocal Adrenaline spy, the boy who had briefly dated Rachel and cost them Regionals last year. But the amount of tension in the room seemed disproportionate to the crimes. There was obviously still a lot of issues with this.

Finally, Rachel lowered her shoulders in defeat. "I just…do," she finished lamely.

"Well, it's good to know you're so committed to the team and to winning Regionals that you can still find the time to sneak away and make out with your duplicitous ex, before so graciously deciding to join the rest of us for rehearsal."

Rachel felt her temper rising dangerously as she turned towards that deceptively sweet voice, the same one who was responsible for this horrific mess. _Except she's not, is she? _Yet before she could recoil at the whisper in her mind, or part her lips in a fittingly caustic retort, she was distracted by the harsh scrape of a chair.

Rachel jerked back just in time to see Finn get stiffly to his feet. Panic seized her body in a torturous grip, her eyes wide and her expression torn, words dying in her throat as the rest of the room fell away around them. He lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers in a weighted stare that was a hundred times worse than all the verbal attack she had just endured, somehow wiping out her summoned strength in one blow.

After a painfully long moment, he walked past her and away from their team, exiting the room in heavy silence. Rachel hesitated for only a second, casting one last conflicted glance at Amelia, before she turned on her heel and ran out after him.

They let her go.

The members of New Directions sat in thoughtful quiet in the wake of the destructive confrontation, unusually subdued as they attempted to absorb the shock and twist of recent events. Trying to hazard a guess at the possible repercussions that lay ahead of them.

"Great," announced Kurt at last, breaking the lingering tension with a flick of his hand. "There goes our best shot at Regionals just flounced out the door." He sighed deeply. "That guy sure does have exceptional timing."

"Gosh, I've missed all the Finchel drama," Santana muttered sarcastically, slumping back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Things have been far too quiet around here lately."

"Anyone else really want to beat the crap out of that Jesse kid," Puck growled suddenly, the words low and sullen. Quinn laid a restraining hand on his arm, frowning to herself, the look in Rachel's eyes stuck in her mind for some reason.

"Come on, it's not like you can really blame her for wanting to get another taste of that action," Brittany interjected, oblivious to the looks she received from her fellow members as she pulled a golden lock of hair in front of her eyes and examined it critically, searching for the split ends that her hairdresser was always going on about but as yet she had failed to find any proof of. "Face it – the guy is _really _hot."

Kurt raised a reluctant eyebrow and inclined his head an inch in agreement.

"He does rock that arrogant badass look pretty damn well," Santana admitted with a small smirk.

"Guys!"

Brittany shrugged. "Just saying: I wouldn't say no."

"You never do," Quinn pointed out.

"Well, that's true."

The students were quickly drawn from their depressing conversation by the arrival of their teacher.

Mr. Schue entered the choir room with his head bowed in concentration, adjusting the stack of music books in his arms, which he proceeded to stack up on the piano before dusting off his hands and finally lifting his attention to his assembled team. His smile abruptly dropped into an expression of resigned weariness at the sight he was greeted with. He cast his gaze over the equally ominous faces of each member, quickly taking in the strained and uneasy atmosphere that was almost a physical taste in the air. His shoulders slumped with a sigh.

"Do I want to know?"

The answer did nothing to bolster his spirits.

"You really don't."

**~o~**

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**AN **I think I left you guys hanging long enough! ;) Forgive me?**  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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"Finn, wait!"

Rachel kept her eyes locked on his back as she raced to catch up with his long strides, her pleading calls falling on deaf ears, a clear refusal to engage that she stubbornly ignored. Reaching out, she grabbed onto his arm in an effort to halt his retreat, her fingers closing tight around the clenched muscles, trying to make him turn around, to meet her eyes…

"Please, just let me –"

"Let you what?" he snapped, yanking his arm free from her grasp and forcing some distance between them again even as he turned towards her. "Explain? I don't think there's anything left to be said, Rachel. You've made your feelings pretty clear."

She shook her head, her movements blind with desperation as she tried to move closer. "Please, you have to believe me, I never meant for this to happen. All of that…" She gestured vaguely down the corridor towards the choir room behind them, grimacing as if the whole experience had left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. "I never wanted that. It wasn't… It wasn't meant to happen this way. I was going to talk to you… I wanted to –"

"Well, now you don't have to," he interrupted curtly, still refusing to meet her eyes. He gave a stiff shrug. "You're off the hook."

Rachel's gaze was distraught, awash and drowning in contemptible guilt as she stared wordlessly at her boyfriend, helpless to take back the pain she had unleashed. She could feel the waves of confusion and anger rolling off him, coiled tight within the angles of his body, taut with the grief of betrayal. It was suffocating. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe, to drag the air through her protesting lungs and hold back the wretched tears that rose up through her chest.

It was too much. It was all wrong. Rachel could handle being bullied and mocked, could bear the burden of disdain that had followed her most of her life, she could take the abuse and hatred from almost anyone in the world – but not from him. _Please._ Her whole heart was aching with the urge to reach out and embrace him, to hold his face and force him to look at her, to somehow make it better again. Anything to restore that warmth in his eyes, that trust in his smile. This was _Finn_: the boy who wrapped her up in big hugs at the end of every game she attended, whether they had won or lost; the boy who winked at her over the top of his drum kit as she danced around him; the boy who let her pick every duet they performed and watched rainy-day movies with her. This was the boy she had known and loved for almost two years, and now he was recoiling from her voice and touch as if she were poison.

Rachel felt like she was breaking from the inside out: shooting pains that tore through her body as the shattered fissures in her heart spread out in hundreds of invisible cracks, shaking her to her very core.

He made to turn away, moving further from her, determined to continue his retreat down a path they could never come back from. It was more than evident that he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her presence, but Rachel found she wasn't ready to let him go. Taking half a step forward, she whispered the only words she had left.

"I'm so sorry."

It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, and they both knew it. Yet she didn't say it in the hopes of forgiveness or reconciliation, nor to appease the violent aches of loathing that overwhelmed her. She said it because it was the most prevalent truth in this whole miserable situation, and she meant it so much more than he could imagine.

Her voice sounded like a faint echo, almost too soft to catch, but Rachel saw the reluctant hesitation that rose up to still his movements. As she watched, a deep sigh seemed to tremble through his shoulders, dropping his head an inch but releasing none of the tension that was etched through his muscles.

"How long?" he muttered at last, the question leaving his lips in a weary exhale.

Rachel paused for an agonizing second, unsure whether her answer would only serve to make things worse. She quickly dismissed her doubts, refusing to contemplate the thought of more lies. She owed him her honesty and now was her last chance to give it. She had nothing left to lose anyway.

"A few weeks," she admitted quietly.

He stood with his back to her and Rachel didn't dare move closer to approach him, instead studying him intently as she waited, silently begging him just to talk to her. _Don't go._ She tried to read the balance of emotion in his body, but it was so much harder without access to those expressive features and unguarded eyes. He'd never hidden from her before…

Finally he raised his head, letting his gaze pass over the lockers beside them but paying it no attention. "I knew something was going on with you." For a moment he sounded so tired, defeated by the crushing fist of realisation. "You've been way too distant lately. But I just thought… I thought you'd come around, that you'd speak to me when you were ready." His hands were fisted tight at his sides, as if in restraint. "But I never imagined it was anything like this. I never believed you could be this deceitful… this screwed up."

Rachel winced, stung by the raw bitterness in his voice. "Finn… I never meant to hurt you. I know that doesn't make things right, I know there's nothing I can say to take any of it back, but you have to understand – I never wanted…"

"You know what I don't get?" he demanded, taking her aback as he suddenly turned around, bringing them face to face at last. Broken love raged in his eyes, and it felt like a hangman's noose tightening around Rachel's neck, choking the air right out of her. He clenched his jaw around the words, as if it pained him to even utter the question. "Why _him?_"

The unspoken name hung in the air between them, deafening in its silence and fraught with electric pressure, like a tempest waiting to break.

Rachel felt her lips part out of habit, searching for the confident answer she was always expected to have, but the whispering words caught and tangled in her chest and refused to come to her aid. She could only stare at him, rendered speechless at the fierce reproach in his gaze; all the turmoil that lay in such a simple yet devastating question.

"After everything he did to us – to _you_ – how could you still have feelings for him?"

"I – I don't know," she said haltingly. She had asked herself that very same thing often enough, and the answer never got any easier to understand. "Believe me, I _wished_ I didn't. I didn't want to…"

"But you did."

Those few words were like a knife in the gut to Rachel. She shut her mouth helplessly, cursing her sudden inarticulateness. But what could she say? She was the guilty party here, straight and simple, and she could hold her hands up all she wanted but there was no getting away from the wrath of self-inflicted consequences. Rachel didn't think she could hate herself anymore than she did right now. It was beyond miserable.

Finn observed her reaction, taking in her silence with warring eyes but a stony expression. He struggled with the desperate urge to gather her into his arms, to hold her one last time, breathe in the comforting scent of her hair and feel her small form wrapped close against him. But he just _couldn't._ Yet the impulse was as strong as ever, and the confusion only served to fuel his anger further. He forced himself to hold his ground.

"How could you do this, Rachel?" He stared down at her, feeling his voice rising with each word and not even bothering to try and control it. "How could you betray me, all of us, with _him _of all people? How could you let him worm his way back into our lives, allow him to come between us all over again!" He was all but shouting now, gesturing accusingly at the empty air around them, his face contorted in contempt. "You do realise this is just an amusing head-fuck to him? All he's ever done is screw us over and sabotage the team from within. It's exactly like last year, for god's sake! He nearly destroyed _everything _at Regionals, everything we've been working so hard for. All he cared about was winning for himself. It's all he knows how to do. What the hell makes you think this time is any different?"

Rachel finally snapped. "This isn't about the _competition_, Finn!" she cried in frustration. "This is about _us._"

"There is no _us_. Not anymore," he corrected. He sighed then, his shoulders heaving heavily. "I'm done, Rachel. With you – with all of this."

She shook her head, holding his gaze imploringly. "Don't say that…"

He almost laughed, but the humour was hollow. "What did you honestly expect? You can't have it both ways. You made your choice the moment you agreed to play his game. Every time you put him before us; every time you looked me in the eyes and lied."

"Finn, I –"

"As far as I'm concerned, he's welcome to you. Maybe you two deserve each other after all."

His voice was sharp enough to make her flinch, hard with a sullen resentment she had never heard from him before. It was almost more than she could stand. Rachel hated to see what her actions were doing to the boy in front of her: the embittered shell of betrayal building around his heart, the cynicism that would forever cloud his perspective from now on. All because of her.

She knew he was lashing out, heedless in his anger, but it did nothing to lessen the spiteful sting of his words. She opened her mouth without thinking, but Finn cut her off before she could start.

"Don't you get it yet?" he pressed on heatedly. "This is _exactly_ what he knew would happen, this is just what he wanted. It wasn't enough to steal Regionals from us, to cost us our hopes and dreams, he wanted to make one last point." His eyes locked on hers scathingly. "That he would _always _hold the power to break us: that he can turn your loyalty with a flick of his wrist and ruin our lives whenever he fucking chooses to."

Rachel felt herself shaking her head, her own temper rising to the challenge, hitting out in retaliation. Objections railed throughout her mind, tightening within her chest. "You can't say that, you don't know what's been going on –"

"Evidently!" he shot back, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Last time I checked, the jerk _ditched_ you in the most humiliating way possible, revealed himself as the two-faced conniving bastard he was, and you wanted nothing more to do with him. Funny that, isn't it? Guess I must have missed a major plot twist along the way," he muttered sarcastically. "Just how long after he showed up again did it take for him to sweet-talk his way out of that one? Or were you more than happy to let him off the hook, to wipe your memory and sell your dignity for the price of a charming whisper and empty promise?"

"He didn't _charm _his way out of anything," she retorted firmly, the memory of their volatile confrontation echoing back through her mind. A gaping chasm of heartache that she had been so sure was unconquerable… No, the rocky road to conciliation had been far from easy.

His brow creased as he studied her, his tone softening almost pleadingly. "Don't you remember how much he hurt you? Because I do."

"I remember," she uttered quietly, betraying nothing of the dull twinge that gripped her heart, smarting at old wounds. As if she could ever forget.

Finn took a step closer, as if determined to pull her back to the harsh reality of all of this, as much as it pained them both. He spoke forcefully, compelling her to meet his gaze. "This is the guy who let his friends trash you, who smashed an egg on your face in front of everyone and walked away without a second look. The person who almost cost us the club, who did everything he could to crush _your_ dreams!"

He could see that stubborn gleam burning in those achingly beautiful eyes, familiar and heartbreaking, even as she hid a wince and glanced away with a shaky breath. Finn found himself loathing the sound of his own voice, but unable to hold back the wronged fury that seethed up in his chest and flowed through his words.

"All of it, it was only ever a scheme to him – a chance to undermine the competition and secure his own success. Don't you think there's a bit of a pattern emerging? He's just screwing with you again and you can't even see it! You never could."

Rachel clenched her hands tighter around her arms, crossed convulsively over her torso. "I'm well aware of everything he did. I've had to live with it every day, unable to confront him or understand, trying so hard to put it behind me and move on." Her eyes flickered down, sombre and guarded. "You'll never know how much I hated him for that."

"Could've fooled me."

Looking up, she sighed and held his gaze as calmly as she could. "We all make mistakes, Finn. We're all guilty of acting selfishly and hurting others. That doesn't mean we should be forever condemned for our sins, that we can't make any effort to try and right our wrongs." She took a deep breath, steeling her own conviction. "Jesse's every bit as human as the rest of us – and just as capable of failing."

Finn scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. "So it's all forgive and forget now? Man, I knew the guy could play you like a puppet but I never guessed he was _that _good."

Rachel frowned, biting her tongue in an effort to maintain her waning restraint. "Whether I forgive him or not…that's something that's between him and me."

Neither spoke for a long moment, both parties regarding the other warily in the loaded silence, their nerves encroaching ever closer to breaking point. Finn looked away, his mouth curling in disdain. "You're a lot of things, Rachel, but I never thought you'd lead me on. That you would _cheat_ on me like this."

Rachel felt her contrition start to rebel in defiance. The bitter condescension in his voice struck at something deep inside her, breaching the walls of a long repressed damn. She narrowed her eyes, unable to stop the words that burst forth from her lips, sharp and withering. "What? You mean like all the times you led _me _on when you were still with Quinn?"

Finn scowled in impatience. "That was different –"

"Why?" she demanded loudly, shocking them both with the vehemence in her voice. "Because you're a _boy?_ Somehow you're allowed to screw up but still hold everyone else to judgement? Because you were confused? Scared? Because you thought that maybe, just _maybe_, you loved two people at the same time?"

Rachel felt furious tears stinging her eyes and quickly glanced away, desperate to get them under control. She would be damned if she started crying _now_. Her lungs felt sore with the effort of breathing, her hands trembling almost invisibly. She didn't know she'd ever held this much hurt and anger over his transgressions before, resentment over everything that had happened at her expense.

"How many times, Finn? How many times did you kiss me, ask me out, meet up and make me feel like we had a chance – when all the while you were still with Quinn? When you still believed she was carrying_ your_ child!"

Finn had a face like thunder, a scornful set to his mouth. "You hardly complained at the time."

Rachel recoiled as if slapped. "And that makes it okay? You _knew _how I felt about you, and you manipulated my feelings just as much as Jesse did!"

"How can you even say that –"

She laughed, a broken note that sounded choked and watery in her throat. "Picking me up and dumping me whenever it suited; expecting me to be at your beck and call; to never complain when you put your reputation ahead of me. All the times you bailed when things got tricky or inconvenient; using me to further your own goals –"

Finn looked like he planned to object to her allegations but Rachel didn't give him the chance, elaborating before he could even raise a finger in protest. "Playing with my heart in order to secure your own future – afraid you wouldn't get a scholarship without the glee club and not caring what means you had to use to justify the ends. So don't stand there and pretend like you're the white knight in this story, like you've never put a foot wrong in this relationship."

Silence stretched between them for what felt like forever, the air thick with tension as her words seemed to reverberate around them, both still struggling to absorb them. Rachel held his gaze unapologetically, despite the grief that consumed her heart.

Finally, Finn broke the quiet.

"If you were _so_ unhappy, so outraged at the way you were treated…why didn't you ever say anything before? Why did you fight so hard to be together?"

Rachel's expression softened in remorse, her eyes torn with tenderness. "I wasn't unhappy," she assured gently. "I loved you. And I accepted your mistakes and your flaws, even when they hurt me, because you accepted mine and cared about me in spite of them. I overlooked all the times we brought the worst out in each other because I couldn't stop loving you and wanting us to be together. But things were far from perfect, Finn. You can't deny we had our problems."

"I just love how you're trying to get out of this by turning it back on me."

Rachel sighed, closing her eyes wearily, gathering the last of her strength. "I'm not trying to get out of anything. I know I can never defend what I did, but you have no idea how much I regret hurting you."

Finn frowned, his suspicions unallayed by the sincerity in her gaze. "But you don't regret _him?_"

She almost seemed to flinch at the question, lowering her gaze and swallowing painfully, as if waiting for words that just wouldn't come. "I regret a lot of things," she said at last.

He eyed her closely for a long moment, feeling his heart constrict all the tighter in his ribs at the mere thought. But he had to know.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Rachel hesitated. It was only a moment, but it was enough. Her eyes flickered up to his, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, yet her gaze was so much more eloquent than words could ever be. As he watched, she reluctantly shut her mouth again and surrendered to the silence, unintentionally opting for truth by omission.

It was fucking déjà vu all over again.

"Unbelievable," he spat, fixing her with such a cold glare that it almost made her back up a step. He could see the blow of his words as they struck across her face, but he was past caring right now. "How could you be so stupid? Don't you realise that's all he _ever _wanted from you? All he gives a damn about is your voice and your body – they're the only things that will ever matter to a guy like him."

Rachel turned her head away, refusing to heed the warning in his words, desperate to fight back the persistent blade of doubt that slipped between her thoughts. "That's not true…"

"How can you be so _blind?_ Are you seriously this naïve? You were only ever a conquest to him all along." His eyes hardened mockingly, his mouth settling into a grim line. "Sorry, Rachel, but that's the only _unfinished business_ he had with you."

Rachel felt a knot welling in her throat, a pressure building in her chest that made it all the more difficult to breathe. This wasn't Finn. Finn was never this cutting and cruel… but then she'd never hurt him this deeply before. With this affair she'd crossed some unspoken line of understanding, betrayed him in the most intimate of ways, and there was no coming back from that.

She knew how Finn felt about Jesse. Their old Vocal Adrenaline rival was the one person Finn truly couldn't stand, managing to incite his jealous streak and bringing out his competitive side in a way not even the prize of Nationals could quite accomplish. Finn had never seemed to really recover from the impact of her ex's presence, his name always a touchy subject that they tended to avoid as a rule.

Maybe it was because her boyfriend had known all along, deep down, that Jesse was the only person who had never relinquished his hold on Rachel's heart. Finn had been there with her after all; the closest witness to her silent heartache in the weeks following the attack in the parking lot. He had seen the bruises under her eyes, the dull echo of grief in her gaze that she fought so hard to hide, the way she had clung onto his hand a little tighter whenever she caught the passing melody of certain songs on the air. They never spoke of it, both determined to never look back after that fateful night at Regionals, intent on closing that unpleasant chapter of their lives and eager to start their own.

Yet the ghosts had never truly faded, the memories finding new ways to make their presence felt by those left behind. Lives had raced on at breakneck speed, regrets had gone unfulfilled, and still that bittersweet longing had lingered like a whispering promise, forever shadowing her smile and haunting the light behind her eyes.

Perhaps Finn had always suspected, always feared it. Maybe that was what made them try so hard, rush in like fools and bury their secrets in the loyal embrace of music. The one inevitable truth neither wanted to accept yet could never seem to escape. It was always _him._ The one boy capable of unravelling their world with a snap of his fingers, the seductive threat of destruction that lay within a single, stolen heartbeat. A dangerous weakness that had always belonged to him.

And now they had just proved it beyond any doubt.

_Jesse…_

Rachel shook her head to herself, almost unconsciously, the words a soft mutter under her breath. "No, you're wrong."

"Am I?"

She could feel his gaze fixed so intently on her, something almost rueful stirring within the ice of his tone, but still she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She heard him sigh in frustration.

"Sorry, Rachel. But _you_ did this." At her stubborn silence, he felt his impatience rising. "I don't believe you. Do you honestly think it means any more to him this time than it did before? Just how did you think all of this was going to play out? You guys aren't exactly the stuff _'happily ever after' _is made of." He smirked bitterly. "There's no fairytale ending there, trust me. And now he's finally got everything he wanted from you, do you really think he's going to hang around? What happens now, huh? What happens when he disappears back to L.A and leaves_ us_ to pick up the pieces again?"

Rachel was frowning at the floor, her eyes dark and troubled, her lips pressed so tight together they were almost white. She was still so beautiful. Finn clenched his jaw and glanced away, forcing himself to suppress the ache that raged through his heart, the urge not to let go. It wouldn't make a difference anyway. Not ultimately.

"I really thought you were different, Rachel." His voice was quiet now, exhausted and resigned to the outcome. "I never imagined you could ever make me feel like this. Maybe I was kidding myself from the beginning, thinking we could ever belong together. That we could somehow make it work against all the odds, that we would ever be enough for each other. But you know, despite everything… I always loved you."

Rachel raised her head and caught his gaze sadly, the words raw in her throat. "And I loved you."

A broken smile passed over his lips, a pitiful echo of their past happiness. "Then you have a very funny way of showing it."

He held her eyes for a moment longer, a mutual acknowledgement that was grieved in silence. When he finally turned away from her once more, she didn't stop him.

Rachel watched him retreat out of sight, hanging onto the sound of his footsteps until they too faded from the corridors, leaving her alone in the unforgiving quiet and at the mercy of her own collapsing thoughts. _Always alone._

Finn's face was etched into her memory, his parting words ringing in her ears, and it all twisted through her heart like shards of glass. The sense of loss was almost crippling.

She thought of their teammates. The betrayal in their faces and accusation in their voices, the isolation and distrust and punishment that was still awaiting her, the selfish consequences she had brought down upon them all. She closed her eyes in frustration, knotting a hand in her hair as apathy gathered within her chest. _Let them bitch and gossip._ She was done in. It was over. For the first time in her life, she couldn't find the strength; couldn't summon a show face; couldn't stomach the thought of another performance.

If Finn could bail on rehearsal, why the hell couldn't she?

Her pounding footsteps bounced off the walls, echoing around the endless hallways and following after her like a chorus of mocking applause. She swiped a hand across her eyes and slammed through a set of double doors with reckless force, desperate to escape into the anonymity of the open streets.

For the first time in her life, Rachel ran away.

**~o~**

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**AN** This chapter was absolute hell to write. I was banging my head so hard against the desk, I almost blacked out a few times. My muse can be a real bitch when she doesn't want to co-operate. Oh well. Better late than never I suppose…

As ever, love and thanks to all you guys, especially those kind enough to leave such inspiring reviews. Everything is so very much appreciated. I really can't believe I've been writing this story for so long! Hopefully I'll be able to finish it before Season Three comes and goes!


	15. Chapter 15

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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Rachel had never felt so cold.

She had run almost the whole way home, carelessly dodging traffic and pedestrians alike, never daring to stop or glance over her shoulder, too terrified to allow her thoughts the chance to catch up with her for too long. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was tangled, she could still hear the adrenaline pumping frantically through her ears, it was still painful to draw a deep breath through the ache of exertion – and yet she was eerily icy to the touch, chilled down to the bone with a despair that refused to thaw.

With a shudder she hunched over her stomach, arms wrapped tight around her shivering frame as if they were the only thing still holding her together. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clawed her fingers into the marble of her flesh, as if she could somehow stimulate or shock the frozen nerves into warmth once more. She begged her body to respond. Her skin to split and bleed from the pressure, her lungs to burn from the lack of air, the sickly rush of nausea to roll up through her gut – _anything _to propel her out of this dream-like surrealism, anything to finally make this real.

Anything to break the obliterating crush of silence.

How could her head be so full of noise, yet her mind echo so emptily? How could she be so torn apart inside, every wretched piece ripped up and scattered to the winds, yet somehow be unable to _feel _any of it? Rachel felt numbed to her core. A statue etched in stone, a bitter effigy of loss, locked inside a curse of regret and left to crumble into the rain.

She could vaguely feel the support of the door at her back and clumsily reached out for it, desperate to be grounded to something familiar. With a surge of effort, she forced herself to straighten up, to press her spine against the solid surface and let it take the burden of her weight. Her hands grasped at the wood behind her, palms stretched flat and fingertips flexing in vain for a grip on her thoughts.

All was quiet up here. There was no creak on the stairs, no knock on her bedroom door, no flutter from her cell phone buried deep in her pocket. The world was leaving her alone, by mutual agreement, and for once Rachel found a strange solace in the loneliness.

A guilty wince crossed her brow, stinging the back of her eyes, as she recalled the scene that had greeted her when she burst through her front door only a few minutes ago. She had barely noticed the sounds of domestic activity, the suitcases by the door that she had nearly stumbled over, the deep, affectionate chuckle that accompanied the melodic humming from the direction of the kitchen. Those same warm voices that had always welcomed her home for as long as she could remember.

"_Hi, sweetheart. You're back early, aren't you?"_

_Rachel's head snapped up, eyes blinking in surprise. For a moment she could only stare, struggling to reintegrate the two colliding spheres of her world in such jarring circumstances. She hesitated, hating herself for resenting their presence, for fumbling with the well-meaning intrusion when all she wanted was to be left to her misery._

_She willed herself to utter an appropriate reply, to wave it off and ask eager questions about their trip, to fall back on an effortless lie or evasive comment. She opened her mouth mutely but her extensive library of script and speech had long been raided into emptiness, leaving only echoes of apology and accusation behind on the dusty shelves. _

_With a sinking heart, she could only watch as a painfully familiar shadow slowly clouded her dad's features, the warm smile slipping into a grim line of worry as his daughter failed to summon a single word in response._

It had been more than she could deal with. Rachel had rushed past him before he could take a step towards her or raise a question. She heard her name being called out but she didn't turn around, couldn't stop running. She all but collapsed against the bedroom door as she slammed it shut behind her, the last of her strength finally deserting her.

It felt like splitting in two. Her heart cried out for comfort but her head was an iron fist of reprimand, insisting that she didn't deserve it. Not now.

And yet she wanted so badly to crush herself into their arms, to let them wrap her up in their loving embrace and soothe away the tears that burned up her chest and ravaged her heart. She wanted to sob into their shoulders and tell them everything that had happened – all that she had done. To ask for a forgiveness that was out of their power to grant. She wanted her dads to hold her like the little girl she once was and whisper sweet lies of reassurance, to pretend once more for a moment that they could somehow make everything alright again.

But that was a selfish naivety she couldn't afford anymore.

Her body convulsed again in a shiver and Rachel leant back heavily against the door, rubbing her arms in an absent reaction, trying to coax some heat back into her skin. If she focused, she could still hear them moving around downstairs, the concerned murmurs and pacing footsteps, but she knew that they would leave her be. For now at least. They always gave her the time and space she needed, always respected her wishes first, and for that Rachel was infinitely grateful.

Her bedroom was almost monochrome in the dusky light of early evening. Cool grey shadows stretched out languidly across her floor, leeching the colour out the air, out of her life. The vibrant pinks and royal purples, the laughing pictures around her mirror and classic art of the posters on her walls – everything felt subdued and muted, somber in grief and mourning.

Finally forcing herself to move, Rachel took a bracing breath and stepped tentatively further into the room. She raised her head and cast her gaze over the familiar tokens of her past that surrounded her, searching for the safety of a certainty she didn't recognise anymore, trying to remember the girl it had once belonged to. Her mind was still strangely quiet, numbed to the sound of her own thoughts, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Yet there was no threat here. No accusing fingers or scandalous whispers. No anger or politics or malicious gossip. No shattered hearts and wounded eyes. None except her own.

A fresh chill broke through Rachel, her faltering steps unwillingly drawing her closer, as her gaze fell over her dresser – upon the light and delicate golden chain that rested across the corner of her mirror. Her breath caught in her chest, salt stinging the back of her throat, as longing fingers reached out to trace the points of the small star that adorned the simple but precious piece of jewellery.

She still remembered the day he had given it to her, the shy tug of his lips as he caught up with her in the hallways between classes just before the school had broken up for Christmas vacation. She had smiled brightly in pleasant surprise before promptly opening it right then and there, as only her natural eagerness and impatience would allow. She had been deeply touched at the sight of his choice of necklace and had instantly put it on, savouring the feel of his calloused fingers as they lifted her hair and fastened the fragile clasp at the back of her neck. It was perfect and it meant everything in the world that he had been the one to give it to her. As her heart swelled happily in her chest and she leaned up to kiss him, smiling against his mouth, Rachel was utterly convinced she would never take it off again. She had seen herself wearing it to the theatre, felt it glinting under the city lights as they walked the streets of New York together. She had imagined it resting safe under her clothes as she prepared for her opening night, as she stepped through those Broadway stage doors for the first time, rushing out to meet him after a triumphant performance. She had envisioned seeing his face through the crowd, all proud smiles and welcoming arms waiting to greet her – always there to share her celebrations, to mark her milestones. It would be a piece of him she could always hold, always have close to her, something to draw comfort from even when work and duty separated them. A constant symbol of their connection, warm with love and tender with affection.

But now the golden pendant felt cold against her skin, a fallen star that had all but burned out.

The chain slipped through her fingers like a stream of winter water as she let the ripples of lost chances wash over her. Sucking in a breath, she was finally forced to withdraw her trembling touch, her body flinching away from all the pain and loss that was tied up with such a personal gift. As much as her heart was drowning in confusion and wrenched with conflict, as much as she wished she knew what she was supposed to do next, she knew that dwelling on such thoughts was no good to her now. There was nothing left for her there anymore.

With a start, Rachel realised that she hadn't even noticed herself not wearing it. She hadn't spared it a thought, hadn't missed it even as the breach of unfaithful secrets grew wider – driving them further and further apart with each step she took, with every moment that she grew closer to Jesse. Even subconsciously she had recoiled away from the memories, the broken promises and dissolving clarity – the guilt holding her back, keeping her from the all too poignant reminder of her betrayal.

She could hardly bear to look at it now.

Rachel would always carry a starlight within her soul, a fearless passion in her gaze, but she had slowly come to realise that it wasn't bound up in a necklace. It smouldered through a touch and glowed in a stolen glance. It rose up through shared silence and spiralled and burst all the brighter in the rhythm of a teasing voice as it reached out to embrace her own, forever guiding and pulling her on even as they competed and drove each other all the harder, just like they always would. It lit up the dark and called through the endless night. It was home and it was heartache and it was dreams set on fire.

But was it enough?

'_I'll always believe in you.' _

Rachel shivered violently and quickly backed away, shaking her head and closing her eyes as if she could somehow wish it all undone – as if she could will herself to wake up from this nightmare. Choking back a sob, she turned around and stumbled to her bed, collapsing down in sheer emotional exhaustion. Burying her face into the covers, she felt like crying out in frustration as the achingly familiar scent of _him _pulled at her senses, torturing her with memories she just couldn't cope with right now, only proving once again that this hellish situation was so awfully, painfully _real_. Rachel felt her insides breaking under the strain of the flood she couldn't hold back any longer. Shuddering, she coiled up tighter, her whole body wracked with the desperate desire to shrink away into nothing. She hugged her pillow close, fingers clenched in a fierce grip even as she felt the soft fabric soak under the weight of her tears, absorbing the strangled sobs that filled her chest and swallowed her voice.

She just wanted her life back.

How did she let this happen? How did she allow the stage to crumble beneath her; the curtain to catch her unawares? She'd lost Finn, her friends, her place in the team and the respect from those around her, a reluctant acceptance that had taken her so long to earn. Rachel had always been strong, always believed she would survive anything to reach her dreams, but the burden of repercussions crashing down on her was simply too much to bear on her shoulders. Her heart had betrayed her in the worst of ways, and what was even more frightening was that she didn't know if she had lost that too in the wreckage of the aftermath – or if she had simply given it away. She'd risked everything she valued in her life for a dangerously alluring game of smoke and shadows. A lover who was never prepared to step out of the darkness, who would never prove to be anything more than an elusive phantom.

_Get a grip, Rachel_, she ordered bitterly, swiping an angry hand across her eyes in a vain attempt to stem the stream of tears that leaked down her cheeks. _You should be used to being the fucking leper by now._

But this time it had been different. She had been getting somewhere, making progress, and for the first time she had permitted herself to almost hope that this could be something real, that this could actually _last_. She had been included, praised – albeit in backhanded ways – but still valued for being part of a team. She had been on double dates with Tina and had Mercedes over for girly sleepovers. She had been there for Kurt through his fledgling romance with Blaine, been a late night voice of sympathy and occasional shoulder to lean on, had stood up and given her support and encouragement when it mattered most, whether he asked for it or not. Surely he of all people should have understood the troubles of a cross-team affair – the tangle of suspicion and doubt you could fall into and the defiant attraction that made you feel like it all might just be worth it.

She had helped Puck reach that elusive high B note through hours of grudging practice and dutiful determination, and she could have sworn there'd been a hint of gratitude and boyish pride in his face when she had beamed up at him, nodding her head decisively as she declared that he had mastered it at last. All of them, as a group and as peers – as a _team_ – they had finally seemed to be getting somewhere, defying all the rules of hierarchy that made them natural enemies and awkward misfits to become something better and stronger. For a moment, Rachel had dared to believe she could finally have another circle of her life that meant as much to her as her family and her ambitions did. She had been so close, clawing her way there inch by inch, one battle at a time.

And now they had just torn it all down all over again. So quick to cast her out, to turn their backs and close ranks – to throw her into the cold and leave her at the mercy of unforgiving isolation. Was this really how little her friendship was worth? Rachel clenched her fist into the pillow until her fingers cramped, squeezing her eyes shut all the harder but helpless to stop the roll of tears that slipped from under her lashes, the taste of salt that burned her lips. She hadn't even been worthy of a second thought, not one voice of reluctant support or wary understanding had spoken up, not one person willing to hear her out. None of them were prepared to even _try_, unable to see past the unruly emotions of their own selfish priorities. A spasm rocked her body and she huddled up tighter, feeling a sickening headache begin to set in but unable to find the will to care. She should have known that ultimately she would only ever be a meal ticket to them, no matter how much she might wish or fool herself into believing otherwise. She was a talent, a voice, and nothing more. As long as she helped them _win_, as long as she towed the line, as long as she behaved and kept her grating personality under control just enough for them to grit their teeth through a smile now and again, then they would tolerate her but no further. Any sense of loyalty, of belonging, was only ever worth the cost of her last misstep.

Would they kick her out of the club? Rachel drew a shuddering breath and quickly shrunk back from the thought. They had threatened it once before and if it came down to divided loyalties between her and Finn, she had no doubts which one their favour would rest with.

Of course, she reflected sourly, if she had only listened to their unreasonable demands back then, their harsh words and ominous warnings at the very beginning – then she might not be in this pitifully wretched position now.

Rachel was uncompromising by her very nature, some would call her spoilt – only child syndrome – and yet she had never tried so much, worked so hard, as she had with the glee club. Did they understand how difficult it was for her? To sit there and bite her tongue to keep from repeating her point for the third time when it was obvious they had chosen to ignore her, struggling to subdue her opinions for the sake of a tentative and dubious sense of harmony – _taking one for the team._ Piping down when all she wanted to do was storm out in frustration. Had they appreciated any of it? For all her efforts to integrate herself with them, to try and break her selfish mindset, to learn the vital assets of teamwork and consideration – had any of them ever once tried to put themselves in _her_ shoes?

_Jesse would have never bowed to that._ The sudden thought caught her off guard, making her swallow and blink blearily as she cracked her eyes open. She knew it was true and it was an alternative perspective that she couldn't seem to shake. Jesse may be arrogant and manipulative but he was undeniably astute and fiercely intelligent, despite how casually he may sometimes try to conceal it. He was unrepentant in his ambition and conviction, never willing to concede to those he considered beneath him. He would do whatever it took for the benefit of the performance and would never sacrifice his judgement or authority over the situation to appease others. Maybe he was right after all – it got you no thanks. Maybe it was better to be respected than to be liked. A sad smile pulled half-heartedly at her lips. Of course, he'd grown up being the centre of attention, admired and envied by friends and rivals alike. He'd never had to kowtow to the influence of others.

Except, perhaps, once.

As the day's awful confrontations echoed through her head again and again, Rachel felt herself sinking deeper into despair. What got her the most was that it wasn't the moral ramifications of what she had done, all the inexcusable pain she had unleashed on Finn, that had outraged her teammates the most – it was _who _she had done it with. _Sleeping with the enemy._ She winced and buried her face deeper into the pillows, shoulders shaking. Jesse would always be the adversary in their eyes, the representative of their most superior competition, his mere association always a danger they simply couldn't risk again. They were incapable of seeing past his ruthless reputation, his traitorous ties and the threat he inevitably posed to their chances of success. They didn't see what was really going on, couldn't even begin to accept there might be other motives at play, other conflicted desires to consider – everything she herself was still struggling to comprehend between them.

'_This is __exactly__ what he knew would happen, this is just what he wanted. You were only ever a conquest to him all along.'_

Was that true? She had no doubt this was a potential outcome that Jesse had predicted to their star-crossed affair, he was shrewd enough to have seen this coming long before she ever did. Whether this was what he _wanted_ – whether the complete decimation of Rachel's world had been the whole point of this heartbreaking second seduction – the very thought was a devastating betrayal she could neither accept nor refute.

She trembled as the force of colliding memories assaulted her mind, a soft whimper escaping her lips. She felt sick and dizzy, her skin numbed by tears that parched her body like a brutal summer drought, her empty stomach crying out in a protest she didn't have the strength to answer.

'_I thought you'd never come back.'_

Maybe it would have been best for everyone if he hadn't. Rachel was under no illusions and she knew that if any of it had been truly up to him, he most certainly wouldn't have spared her or McKinley a second look. Another thing she had to thank Shelby for, she thought darkly. If he'd just transferred back to Carmel immediately, returned to his place with his rightful team and never glanced over his shoulder again – maybe she would have finally been allowed to be happy in the life she'd chosen for herself. If he'd just kept away, left her alone and forsaken the fragile joy of reunion, the wound of separation only promising to tear all the deeper a second time. No rush into his embrace in that studio, no relief of forgiveness as he pulled her close and smiled against the top of her head, a moment too sweet and tender to be anything but the overture to tragedy. No revelation of her twisted family ties, no stunts of public humiliation, no web of deceptive truths as they parted lives in the worst and most brutal of ways. They could have been spared it all, never knowing it was all for the best.

But return he did, and not for the last time. He had broken all the rules, defied the scripts they lived by and condemned them both to a paradox they could never solve. He had called her back into his arms and she had been tangled up ever since.

Rachel shook her head hopelessly as she tried to understand, to somehow enforce some semblance of reason onto her tragic lapses of judgement. It was the way Jesse _looked _at her. It was the way he held her eyes, secret and knowing all at once, so strong and unwavering and equally demanding – reaching somewhere deeper than she could ever hide. It was what enabled him to take everything and give up nothing in return. The greatest skill of an actor – to make the connection so real, so intimate and penetrating, that you can fool even yourself.

A cool shiver coursed through her body. She could still remember the feel of his lips grazing over her neck in a gilded caress, his hand running up her thigh and mouth skimming her skin in a tease of things to come, the burning _want _in his touch evident even back then. But lust was not love – no matter how temptingly wrapped. And it was a line all too easily crossed; a distinction they had compromised to their peril; a heady confusion that had cost her everything.

Drawing her knees to her chest, she fought to control the pained gasps that broke from her lips with each fresh swell of sobs. She couldn't make it stop even as she felt the last shreds of her energy slowly seeping away. She couldn't _breathe._

Rachel had been an outsider all her life. She had come to accept it, convinced herself she didn't need the company of her peers, that she was destined to stand above them. But with glee club… she had finally found something to be a part of. It was by no means perfect or easy but it had _meant _something. And so she had fought for it – through the tantrums, through the humiliation, through the back-stabbing and trials and heartache. And her efforts had been slowly rewarded with glimpses of dawning sunlight. With shared laughter and triumphs, tentative trust and recognition, touches of comfort and support in their darkest moments – the camaraderie and casual embraces of growing friendships.

She should have known it was never meant to last.

In the shadows of her darkening bedroom, in the crushing quiet of her sorrow, Rachel felt her phone suddenly spring to life in her pocket. A familiar, rhythmic beep echoed jarringly into the gloom, piercing her solitude and making her wince away from the intrusive sound. The world had seen fit to break its silence at last.

She was deeply unwilling to move, to acknowledge the interruption, uneasy anticipation clenching in her stomach. And yet she couldn't _not_ look. It went against every fibre of natural curiosity and compulsion in her body. Shifting to sit up once more, she reluctantly fumbled for her cell and flipped it open with clumsy fingers, trying to clear her vision enough to read the incoming message that sprang onto the screen.

_500 channels and there is officially nothing decent on TV. That's so depressing. Heading to the video store, any requests? FYI – I am NOT watching Grease again._

Rachel froze. Her gaze swept over the idle text almost numbly, her heart hammering in her chest even as the surge of grieving bitterness threatened to overwhelm her. She bit back the hot tears and willed her hands to stop shaking.

_Just go away._

The abruptness of the words seemed to strike a nerve past all the usual swagger, and the response was quick and tense.

_What happened?_

She almost felt like laughing, but the sound got stuck in her throat and all she could do was shake her head in resigned defeat. Ignoring the question, she snapped the phone shut and let it fall from her fingers, dropping onto the bed like the anchor of a sunken ship. Forcing herself to look away, she gazed off blankly into the skyline that stretched beyond the panes of her window, wishing her mind would stop spinning long enough to get a handle on her thoughts.

The phone lit up again with a call barely a minute later, ringing out sharp and insistent in the silence, and she spared it only a cursory glance before firmly hanging up. Another text came through.

_Rach, talk to me._

He never had been one to readily follow the demands of others, and it was a stubbornness she knew only too well. As the small cell beeped again impatiently at her refusal, she clenched her hands and resisted the urge to hurl the phone across the room and smash her expensive mirror to pieces. At the third unanswered message, she finally snapped. Snatching it up, she all but wrenched it open and punched out her reply, furiously blinking away the blurring tears that scorched her sight.

_My life is ruined, that's what happened. Congratulations. Mission accomplished. You can go back to UCLA and tell all your friends how the great, smooth Jesse St. James took Rachel Berry for one last ride. That you haven't lost your touch. That you could force yourself into my life forever, the one thing I can never take back, that you'll always have. What was it – a dare? A bet? Boredom? Couldn't resist the chance to sabotage Regionals one more time? Or do you really hate me that much? The stupid little girl who never got over you and let you walk all over her heart all over again. I can't believe I thought that I could trust you._

Slamming the screen of her phone shut for the last time, Rachel threw it down to her bed with a vehement force before collapsing back into the pillows, breathing hard and unable to stop trembling.

And in the quiet, she waited.

It would be so easy to hate him. To lay all the blame at his door and simply walk away. And yet… did she truly want to take it back? Did she really regret that night as much as her angry words had told him? Rachel put her palm to her forehead, frowning as she desperately tried to cool the aching friction of her thoughts, the memories whispering through her body like a beckoning spring breeze. She had felt such warmth and devotion under his touch, a raw sense of belonging that she had never experienced before, and it was like waking up and falling into a dream at the same time. It had been the most painfully and beautifully _real _night of her life. How could that all have been a lie? Just another game of deception? A soft sob tore past her lips and she quickly closed her eyes in an attempt to stifle the burn of tears. She had really underestimated him.

Rachel wished with all her heart that he'd never walked into her ballet studio that day, that he'd never set foot back in this city, this whole damn state. If only he'd just _stayed _out of her world. Was this second encounter really just every bit as cruelly orchestrated as their fateful meeting in an unassuming music store, so very long ago?

She didn't want to speak to him. She didn't care if she never saw him again. She didn't want him to call back.

But the worst confession of all was that a small, defiant, secret part of her… still hoped he would. The part of her that wanted him here with her more than it wished him gone. A lingering naivety that had dared to believe that when it did all inevitably fall to pieces – that they would face the onslaught together. It was a stupid, romantic notion that she should have outgrown: star-crossed lovers standing together against the world. _Romeo and Juliet to the bitter end._ A faint, rueful smile crossed her lips – she really needed to stop bringing them back to that comparison. They may both have an undeniable flair for the dramatic and elaborate charades of misunderstandings, but suicide pacts weren't really in their repertoire. And yet, the parallels were hard to escape sometimes and all the greatest love stories of the world seemed to have a pattern of ending in tragedy. Maybe that was simply their fate. Maybe Finn was right after all.

The plain fact of the matter was that Jesse had never been an outcast like her. His star had been nurtured and spoiled while hers had struggled to glow in shadows of hatred and bullying. She already knew that he was a skilled manipulator in all spheres of his life, accomplished and unfaltering, always smooth and confident and calculating. He knew how to play everything to his advantage and talk his way out of any unpleasant consequences. In public humiliations and retribution, she would always stand alone.

Would she ever fucking _learn?_

She had gambled her future, all she cared about, on a slight of hand that had cheated her out of everything. She'd suffered the blows before, knew the risks and had the scars and bruises to show for it – and yet she had still bargained it all for one last roll of the dice. She should have known it was loaded from the start. Rachel turned over and gave a muffled moan. She felt utterly lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Whether she liked it or not, Jesse was under her skin and in her veins, burning deep in her blood like a goddamn drug. A bittersweet poison that would forever hold her slave to its addiction, wasting away in her heart until there was nothing left of her worth saving.

She should have known better by now. Jesse St. James always won. One way or another.

It wasn't just her body that was drained of warmth, all the world was cold around her as Rachel curled up and attempted to cry out a broken heart. On the bed beside her, the glittering pink cell phone lay still and stayed silent.

**~o~**

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**AN** Whew, at last! Sorry this took so long (and for the excessive angst, lol!), but I have been torn between several projects that I'm struggling to update and I can only concentrate on one thing at a time! Plus things are a bit all over the place at the moment, work is coming into its very busy period and I'm generally exhausted with life. Good news is though, I can promise that Jesse _will_ be making a non-text appearance in the next chapter. Thanks again to everyone who is following this story and all those who take the time to review and let me know your thoughts. It's all very much appreciated. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoyed.


	16. Chapter 16

I apologise this has taken a while, but here at last is the Jesse chapter I promised. I also just want to take the opportunity to give a special shout out to all my anonymous reviewers. Since I can't reply to you, I just wanted to say thanks for all your comments – they are very much appreciated. The response to this story has really blown me away. So whether you are a faithful reviewer or lovely lurker - thank you all for following and I hope you enjoy.

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**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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'_Is this real?'_

'_It was all a lie from the beginning, every word that fell from your mouth… Did it ever mean __anything __to you?'_

'_If I give myself to you, and it turns out that you're just playing me, I might die… It'll be the kind of heartbreak that girls like me hold for the rest of their lives.'_

There it was.

Running a hand down his face, Jesse slumped back with a sigh, ignoring the creak of protest from the old wooden chair that inhabited the corner of his uncle's spare room. Troubled eyes locked on the sleek black cell that rested on the desk in front of him, sharp but unseeing, mind trapped by the tangled echoes of a past that never seemed to stop haunting them.

That had always been her biggest fear, and she had laid it on the table right from the start. She had warned him and he'd laughed in her face, dismissive and arrogant and blinded by his own abilities, the flawless discipline of a trained leading man. It had been all too easy to assuage her trepidation, to play to the lure of forbidden romance, needle her weakness for dramatic affairs and seduce her into Shelby's ruse. Her honesty was her undoing, her awakening passion had left her vulnerable in his hands, her innocence all too sweet to consume. He had never taken her declaration seriously, brazenly looked right through the earnest imploring of truth in her gaze. If only they had known just how that fateful moment would come to define them. He saw all too clearly now that they would very possibly never escape it; never manage to outrun the whispers of their minds. A doubt that had never truly lifted from their shoulders, pressing down until it finally broke them both.

And yet, the deception stained both sides of the blade. Jesse's eyes darkened as a muscle clenched in his jaw, his fist tightening upon the desk. She may never admit it, but the bitter truth still remained that if he hadn't ended their fledgling romance – she would have. It was just a matter of when. Sooner of later, her misguided schoolgirl idealism would've reared its head and plunged blindly off into the abyss once more. Sooner or later she would have convinced herself that nothing could compare to her painfully contrived feelings for Finn and that she had to be _true to her heart_. At the end of the day, she had been making a _point_ in her relationship with Jesse, taking the chance to establish a little healthy competition in her endless cat-and-mouse play with _Finn_.

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as if he could shut out the encroaching headache by force of will, his chest heaving in a deep breath as he let his head fall back. It never could have lasted. Once her curiosity and defiant impulse had been satisfied, she would have confused her crush for unrequited love once again and gratefully fallen back into the comforting rut of habit. He would have been cast off, albeit reluctantly, and she would have retreated back to the safety of a delusion where the heartache was at least predictable and manageable. After all, it hurt less to stumble down a few steps than to fall from all the height of the heavens.

He refused to let that happen. So he had bailed first, been the one to strike the severing blow, sacrificed the all too tempting potential of everything they could have been in order to protect something far more fragile. It had taken Jesse a long time to finally admit that to himself, and it was not an easy cowardice to live with. But when you had nothing, you had nothing to fear losing.

The deal with Shelby had given him a premise; the rule of Vocal Adrenaline had given him an excuse; the ruthless drive of his ambition had been a justification – but in the end, Jesse's actions had been at the mercy of far baser emotions.

With a frustrated sigh he shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts, turning the cell phone over and over between his fingers, absently watching the harsh artificial light of the bedroom reflect off the dark screen. Her silent words rang through his ears, as cold and cutting as if she had thrown them in his face like shards of shattered glass.

'_Do you really hate me that much?'_

Jesse winced, a grimace of pain tightening his handsome features. Did she honestly think that? Could she really believe that of him? He knew the text had been sent in the grip of despair, the accusations raw and uncensored and lashing out against the confines of a hurtful confusion, but the fact that she could even entertain such a thought tore away at something deep inside him. Despite everything they had done to each other, no matter how much anger and wronged pride he carried, no matter how contradictory his actions – Jesse had never hated Rachel. He_ couldn't_. A sudden spark of defensiveness shot through his chest, a resentful frown clouding his face even as veins of guilt and grief knotted inside his heart. After everything they had been through, after all he had done and given up – she could _still _believe him capable of such vindictive cruelty and callous abuse.

And yet… could he really blame her? Jesse was well aware that people were judged on their reputations, it was a status-quo that he had traded on often enough to his advantage, and the fact remained that he given her plenty of proof in the past to support any such unfavourable perceptions. Why should she give him the benefit of the doubt when he had done nothing but repay her faith with pain and humiliation? He felt an edgy impatience snap at his insides. Would his crimes ever be forgiven? Would the ghosts of mistrust ever leave them alone? Would his motives ever be above reproach?

'_I don't understand…why you're doing this.'_

He shivered at the memory of her voice, soft with an almost fearful pleading, fluttering against his neck like silken butterfly wings – trapped and waiting breathlessly, not knowing if the hands that held her would comfort or crush. The shadows and misgivings that always followed in their footsteps, the tarnish of a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. Had he ever given her an answer? Looked her in the eyes and laid her doubts to rest once and for all? Had he ever given her the solid confirmation she so needed? She had risked everything for him and he couldn't even give her that. He clenched his knuckles against the waves of helpless frustration that stormed through his chest. They were just _words_, for god's sake.

But Jesse knew only too intimately, as only a soul of the stage could, that words could unravel illusions as quickly as they could weave them anew. They were the most dangerous weapons in deception's armoury, their power too often underestimated to tragic consequences. The fact was that declarations of the heart were fundamentally only as substantial as the air they were breathed into, fickle and subjective and all too easily negated. Jesse built his world with words – script and verse slipped from his lips like a riddle of silver lies, without thought or consideration and always effortlessly convincing. He knew how to play language and inflection to a tee, manipulating each subtle nuance like a master, but it was a skill that came with a price. He had soon learned that words and he held no mutual trust for each other outside their professional relationship, no sense of loyalty bound them together. Truth was all relative in his world – it could be bent and broken and moulded into whatever advantage he so wished. It was a dangerous line to tread and Jesse found himself struggling more and more to keep the duality of his life within context. And yet with Rachel… somehow, it was the closest he had felt to solid ground in a very long time. A small smile quirked the corners of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. Ironic, considering their entire story had been spun on the threads of fabricated drama.

Jesse knew better than anyone else how little words could mean, so how could he possibly give them to her with any sincerity? How could he expect her to believe them? He rubbed a hand roughly across his eyes with a shudder. Words were just so… inadequate. They could trick you without even knowing it, empty your soul of the conviction of your voice, their only purpose to set the stage and aid the performance. They had been his ally for all his life, but for the first time, he found that they couldn't save him from himself.

Words were easy…truth was something much, much harder.

Blowing out a sigh, his eyes drifted back to the cell phone before him as his fingertips skimmed across the screen, almost as if they could still feel the tremour of her furious accusations that burned so painfully through his mind. Somewhere in the house he could hear the TV blaring, the undulating roar of a football match, and the noise grated against his thoughts unpleasantly.

'_I can't believe I thought that I could trust you.'_

He flinched almost imperceptibly, stiffening in his seat as the raw resentment in her parting words echoed through his head once again. Jesse didn't know the details of how they had been discovered, and at that moment he didn't much care. What was done was done and the fallout was always going to be painful. What he _did _care about, was just how much they had gotten to Rachel in their eagerness to cast doubt and recrimination. It wasn't hard to guess the things that had been said in the wake of such a revelation, the way her so-called friends and teammates had interpreted his unexpected return. The thought alone was enough to make a dark scowl cross his face, his body tensing with the all too natural instinct of confrontation. But now was not the time for such reckless impulses, no matter how satisfying it might be to contemplate, and he knew that. So with a very reluctant surge of determination, he put the heated emotions to one side and tried to assess the extent of the damage with a critical mind.

Jesse knew this turn of events had been on the cards from the beginning, but now it had finally happened, he didn't know quite how to feel. A frown settled over his face, clouding his eyes with conflicted thoughts. He'd toyed with the threat often enough, struggled with his own frustration over the torturous limbo they were caught in, all the while pressed by the inevitable knowledge that time was running out. And yet, despite everything, he had never wanted to force her hand. Not like this.

But Lima was a painfully small town, too small for any secrets to be kept for long. And those fucking McKinley kids seemed to live in each other's pockets anyway, stirring up friction and drama and new webs of romantic entanglements at every opportunity. It was all very incestuous.

He shook his head slightly, a mirthless smile of incredulity twisting his lips. The ego of those deluded kids never ceased to amaze him. Always sticking their noses where they didn't belong – concerned with nothing more than scenting the blood of fresh gossip and scandal. They had some nerve to try and somehow put themselves in the middle of all of this. Did they honestly think he had nothing better to do than spend the better part of a year dreaming up elaborate revenges for their pathetic little team? This had fuck all to do with New Directions. This was between him and Rachel, and he couldn't care less what they thought about him or his motives.

Jesse gritted his teeth, fighting to keep on top of the riot of thoughts that tumbled and swelled through his mind. Except that was a lie. Because _Rachel _cared. She cared so very much, too much, about the opinion of others. She always had. Despite all her pride and resilience and enviable talent, despite all the heartache her twisted little family had caused each other – they were still her team. She was still tied to them, still vulnerable to their acceptance and approval, and that enduring sense of loyalty was only hurting her all the more in the backlash. He knew they were punishing her because of him, and the thought raged in his chest like a molten furnace. Yet at the end of the day, Jesse could harbour as much anger as he wanted at the misguided members of New Directions, but there was no escaping the fact that _he_ was the one ultimately responsible for the loss, despair and pain Rachel was suffering through right now.

And god, he _hated_ that.

With a ragged sigh he dropped his head into his hands, burying his fingers into the mess of dark curls with a tight grip. It absently occurred to him that he was letting it get rather long again. He was due for a cut. The crackle of the TV had switched to the synthetic cheer of a game show, a siren wailed somewhere outside over the streets, and still his thoughts refused to settle down into any sense of purpose. His emotions were vaulting from one extreme to the other, leaving him trembling in the force of them. Never in his whole life had Jesse felt such confusion. He had always been sure, always steadfast, always in control of the desires that drove him – and now anxious uncertainty crashed through him with an untempered fury, churning so violently that it threatened to break him apart.

Was her hard-earned conviction in him really so easily swayed and torn down? Could either of them ever move past the games of pride and binds of expectations that defined their worlds? Would they ever be able to speak in anything but lyrics and verse around each other? Trust was something so fragile. Once lost, once broken so brutally, could it ever be rebuilt unconditionally? A frustrated groan slipped from his lips, uttered into the palms of his hands. This train of thought was proving to be a vicious circle.

He knew the glee club would prey on her insecurities, her fears and doubts and all the evidence for them. They would divide and isolate and make it very clear that she had thrown everything away with her decision to allow him back into her life. They'd tried to make her choose sides once before and he wouldn't put it past their pettiness to try such a tactic again. It would be purely for show though, flexing their muscles in order to prove a point and assert the rule of majority. All she had to do was call their bluff if such a situation arose and they would fold. Frankly, it would be unbelievably stupid on their part if they tried to force her out of the club. There was no way they would make Regionals, let alone Nationals, without Rachel. She was the lynch pin of that club, a powerhouse of pint-size talent that they couldn't hope to emulate. And they knew it too – but that wouldn't stop them from making the aftermath of this affair as hard for her as possible. Yet she would endure, she always did.

Jesse frowned down at the cell phone that sat dark and waiting on the desk in front of him, still heavy with the weight of her bitter words of regret. Bowing his head and gazing over the steeple of his fingers, he silently contemplated the range of options that lay before him.

She was right. He could just go back to UCLA. All his stuff was still piled on top of the duffle bag that sat beside the bed, ready to be thrown together at a moment's notice, and there was nothing keeping him here clearly. Not if he chose to take her dismissal at face value. It would be so easy to pick up and leave, to cut his losses, to take the road west and rededicate himself to getting his life back on track.

But Jesse had taken the easy way out before.

The truth was that coming back had been far harder than he had ever anticipated. Even the most gruelling of VA rehearsals hadn't taken as much out of him as these last few weeks had. He had already extended his college vacation, spun some story of a family emergency and forged his parents' signatures – something he'd been doing since he was twelve. The missed classes didn't bother him so much as the missed practices. Jesse had fended off a string of texts and pushing phone calls from his teammates in the past few days. Some concerned, some curious, most full of familiar flirting, but all forcefully reminding him that they had a show coming up in less than two months and suggesting in a variety of colourful phrases that he better get his ass back to town soon. A wry smile sparked in his eyes. Once more he had managed to get completely pulled into Rachel Berry's world. She was a force of nature unto herself, drawing in everything around her like a shining sun, and he'd still felt that beckoning pull of gravity from the other side of the country.

And now she had truly given him everything…and he could so easily destroy her with it.

Releasing a deep breath, Jesse raised his head and felt his eyes drawn towards the corner of his desk, where the metallic glint of his car keys caught the streetlight beams that pooled through the bedroom window. Steely determination suddenly snapped into place within him, silencing all other factors that tried to split his attention. Resolve filled his movements as he abruptly stood up, pushing back the chair and hooking the keys up into his palm with a fluid sweep of his body. Shrugging on his jacket, he went down the stairs and let the front door slam shut behind him, exiting the house without so much as a goodbye.

_/o/_

Pulling up alongside the curb of the quiet residential street with a smooth flourish, the driver of the jet-black Lexus turned his head and cast his eyes over the house opposite. They immediately flickered up to a certain brightly curtained window, gaze intent as if searching for something, before moving down to fall over the silver BMW that filled the expanse of the driveway. His brow furrowed for a moment, as if something about the scene was out of place. Then his expression abruptly tightened as recognition of the vehicle struck home.

_Shit._

Jesse grimaced, wary trepidation settling heavily in the pit of his stomach at this unforeseen complication. He had forgotten they were coming back today. The soft rumble of the engine rolled through the current of his thoughts like ominous thunder as he took a moment to contemplate what kind of response he was in for. His lips twitched in a grim smile as he quickly deduced that the prospects were not overly encouraging from any of the occupants of the house in question.

The hesitation lasted all of half a minute before he sharply cut the engine and swung himself out of the car.

No hint of apprehension shadowed his face as he listened to the buzzer ring out in the depths of the rooms beyond, his expression one of only a polite and professional respect as the door pulled open a few moments later.

He forced himself not to step back, holding his ground as a familiar gaze swept over him, taking in the unexpected sight that had just knocked on his door. There was a tense stretch of silence as dark, shrewd eyes met a flawless mask of calm control. Surprise was certainly there, but not as much as the young man had been expecting, nor was there anger. Only the sadness and concern of a comprehension that passed unspoken.

Finally, Hiram Berry found his voice, the conflict that pinched his eyes weary but not hostile.

"Jesse," he breathed on a sigh, more to himself than in any form of greeting, as if that one word somehow explained everything.

**~o~**

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**AN** I think three chapters was long enough to be without Jesse, don't you? As ever, feedback and comments are love :) Thanks for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

**Caught In Your Bad Romance**

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_** ~o~** I come to you in pieces…**~o~**_

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Jesse felt like a thief as he stepped softly along the carpeted hallway.

Despite being granted a tenuous permission, he still couldn't help feeling like he was intruding, as if he were returning to the scene of a crime. He stopped outside her bedroom and listened, his fingers hovering over the handle as he took a deep breath he wasn't aware of. Whether the protective inch of distance was projected by him or her, Jesse didn't know. He could hear the soft murmur of voices beneath his feet, acutely aware of the very wary and very protective parents who paced the floor just downstairs. Yet he was even more aware of the gentle pulse of her breathing on the other side of the door, the warmth of her presence tangible even through the solid walls between them. His throat felt dry, his chest oddly airless, as if his very heart were holding its breath, awaiting its fate.

He knocked once, soft but firm. The reply was muffled but instant, and more than a little impatient.

"Go away, Daddy. I told you, I'm not having dinner. I'm not hungry."

Jesse rolled his eyes to the ceiling even as his lips quirked upwards at the sound of her voice. Refusing food, locked away in her lonely tower, too heartbroken to eat. Such typically dramatic behaviour. She would be starving again by midnight. His movements were measured and calm as he reached for the handle, betraying none of the uncertainty that ran riddles through his mind. He wasn't surprised to find it unlocked. Rachel rarely locked the door against her dads, trust a mutual bond that ran strong through their family. And it was that same trusting nature that he had bruised with a careless hand one too many times.

The room beyond was dark in the gathering night, the silhouette of a waning moon just visible through the curtains that were drawn together against the window. Jesse let his eyes adjust to the darkness as he walked quietly into the same bedroom he had spent more time in than his own over the last few weeks. He found her easily. Her slight frame was shadowed against the bulk of her bed, somehow seeming dwarfed by it. She was facing away from him, her knees tucked up and head pillowed on her arms, curled up on her side like a wounded animal. He hesitated for only a moment before crossing the floor, his gaze never leaving the familiar contours of her body, concern crinkling the corners of his eyes. The feel and smell of her bed as he sat down beside her brought back a rush of memories, the room appearing almost exactly like it had just the other night when they had shared it together, shared each other along with the deepest of their secrets.

Gently he laid his hand on the soft dip of her waist, light enough not to startle but firm enough to defy the lingering doubt that afflicted them both. He heard her draw in a shaky breath and he smiled, running his thumb over the slash of bare skin where her shirt had ridden up, silent as he waited for her to stir from the comatose misery.

"J-Jesse?"

It was a confirmation she didn't need, his effect as unmistakable as ever. She knew his touch better than anything else, forever engrained in her memory and forever marked on her body. Slowly Rachel turned over and looked up at him, blinking dazedly as her exhausted mind struggled separate the delirium of her restless dreams from the solid warmth of reality. Her face was flushed and wet, voice thick with tears.

"What… why are you here?"

Jesse adjusted his grip, his fingers continuing to caress soothingly across her waist. His face was inscrutable despite the wry lilt in his reply.

"Well, your text sounded like you wanted to hit me again. I thought it only fair to give you the opportunity face to face."

A ghost of melancholy smile flickered on her lips as Rachel stared up at him, trying to read his expression in the silence that followed. A slight frown slowly pinched between her brows, as if she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing.

"I didn't… I didn't think…"

She trailed off, leaving the thought incomplete.

"What?" he probed gently. A strange yet beautiful sadness rose in his eyes as she watched him, a crack in that flawless porcelain that was mesmerizing to Rachel. All too soon, it was gone again, buried under layers of hard training. It made her heart ache and she suddenly lacked the conviction to answer him. They both knew the answer anyway, the insecurities they shared, proven and disproven too many times to count.

Jesse saw the emotions fighting across her face, different reactions conflicting against each other as they tried to surface intact from the turmoil. Finally the overwhelming instinct of relief and need for comfort won out over her pride and confusion. Refusing to contemplate the consequences she launched herself into his embrace, barely giving him time to catch her before she buried herself hard against him, her arms almost strangling in their hold around his neck. Shifting them only slightly to allow himself the privilege of breathing unobstructed, Jesse quickly gathered her as close to him as both could physically manage. He shut his eyes, pressing his face to the side of her neck and drinking in the soft perfume of her hair. Something jolted inside his chest like a bolt of lightning, as if her mere touch had unlocked the pulse of his heart and set it beating again, driving frantically against his ribs as it raced in overdrive to catch up with all its skipped beats. The sensation almost caused him to start. He felt her grip on his neck seize tighter, as if she thought the slight flinch would take him away from her again. He smiled to himself and stroked his hands down her back in reassurance, matching her embrace just as fiercely.

Rachel felt her eyes burn as he held her almost painfully tight against him. She shook her head, wilfully silencing the calls of caution that objected from the back of her mind. She was tired, so very tired, only at last succumbing to the comfort she so badly needed. It was late in the evening now, her room all but pitch black, bathed in the shadows of a stolen dream. She didn't have the strength to analysis and argue right now. All her thoughts could process was the one indisputable fact she was faced with at this moment. _He was here._

_How_ and _why_ and _what next_ could all wait for now.

They stayed like that for a while, the quiet broken only when Rachel turned her head to mumble against his shoulder.

"I still wanna hit you."

Jesse chuckled into the crook of her neck, his breath rippling through her hair and the sound sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. "Fair enough." There was a pause before she heard him speak again, his voice dropping to a soft murmur that sounded uncharacteristically tentative. "You know I'll go…if you ask me to."

Rachel wined in something almost like embarrassment. She twisted her fingers in the back of his shirt collar, the guilt sitting uncomfortably in her throat, making it hard to get the words out. "I'm…sorry about the text. I didn't…I was…"

"It's okay," he interrupted quietly, stroking a hand through her tangled hair as he hushed her, only the faintest smirk creeping into his voice. "I probably deserved it."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "Probably?" She heard him laugh and smiled despite herself.

Jesse felt her bury her face back into his shoulder, a deep sigh heaving in her chest. He held her tight, hugging her closer to him almost convulsively as he felt the sear of fresh tears fall against his neck like hot pinpricks. Finally, he forced himself to bite the bullet, knowing they could delay it no longer.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Rachel sniffed as she pulled away, not looking at him as she sat back on the bed. She kept her gaze lowered, turning her face away to quickly wipe at her eyes. Jesse's hand fell from her hair, grazing her jaw with the lightest touch, just enough to guide her chin in his direction, a silent request to meet his eyes when she was ready.

Rachel felt worn out, exhausted by the endless refrains that rang through her head, volleying guilt and blame and _'what ifs' _back and forth until she was too dizzy to think straight. Truthfully, she was fed up of talking. And yet somehow in spite of everything, or perhaps because of it, she felt she still could with Jesse. They were in this together, right? For the moment anyway. He was perhaps the only person in the world she could really talk to right now, the only one who really knew. They had been through so much in such a short and intense space of time. Rachel could barely believe how much her world had changed in twenty four hours, let alone in the two weeks since he had walked back into her ballet studio that fateful afternoon.

And now here they were again, sharing her bed once more, under very different but no less emotional circumstances. The two painfully fragile spheres of Rachel's world had finally crashed together in a rainstorm of broken glass, a collision that threatened to cut her to ribbons if she wasn't careful.

"They… they saw us," she said at last, her voice dull and quiet, confirming what Jesse had already deduced for himself. She gave a half-hearted shrug. "Turns out the auditorium had an audience after all."

She sighed, her reluctance evident. The last thing Rachel wanted to do was relive any of the headache and confusion of the last few hours, and yet she could never seem to resist spilling her heart to him. And so she told him. She told him of everything that had happened since he had left her standing alone in the wings of the stage, two fingers pressed lightly against her smiling lips in a last kiss, following him with her eyes as they had parted company earlier just that afternoon. As yet, still unaware of the devastating revelations that were waiting just around the corner.

Rachel chanced a cautious glance at him as she spoke, as if afraid of what she would find in his shaded gaze. Jesse's expression was hard under the carefully calm exterior, only the tension in his jaw revealing the effort behind that control. She took a deep breath as she paused in the story, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice, and he took the opportunity to finally pass comment.

"Someone really needs to teach that girl a lesson," he remarked in a deadpan tone, though Rachel knew better than to believe the threat an idle one.

She couldn't help but profoundly agree, yet she felt herself shaking her head with a long sigh. "Tempting, but it really wouldn't help things."

"But it might be fun," he countered, earning a reluctant smile from her lips.

Rachel didn't know quite how it happened, the response perhaps too natural to be conscious, but they had somehow become entangled once more during the course of her tale of woe, shifting until they were curled up at the head of her bed. She didn't recall when his arm had settled along her side, or when her head had come to rest on his shoulder as she stared blankly across the room, lost in the painful echoes of her memories. The rhythm of her voice was the only sound in the darkness as she told him what had happened in his absence, in a bit more detail than her heated text had afforded. She could feel him tense next to her, the anger palpable in his reaction to the glee clubbers attack, though he stayed carefully silent. She was evasive in relaying their exact words to her about him, but she knew he would easily fill in the blanks for himself. She felt it in the way he squeezed her a little tighter, his grip taking on a possessive reflex, but she but didn't object, folding into his embrace compliantly. Rachel hesitated, not daring to turn her head to gauge his expression. The rational part of her longed to challenge him on their accusations, to look him dead in the eye and ask him outright if there was any truth in their words, yet she found herself remaining quiet. Perhaps she was more afraid of the answers than she could ever admit.

Jesse had to consciously force himself to relax when she came to her confrontation with Finn. Though she was guarded about their exchange, he could read the devastating effect on her in her body. The waver of her voice, the bite of her lip and the haunted pain in her eyes, the way she unconsciously nestled further into him, her fingers clenching softly in his shirt. It wasn't hard to guess the contents of Hudson's reaction, though Rachel's side of the conversation was more ambiguous in Jesse's imagination. Finally, the words ran out and quiet fell on them once more, heavy and expectant. It felt like a long time before he finally spoke.

"I didn't want you to go through that," he said tightly. "I should have been there."

Rachel smiled a little ruefully, knowing that if Jesse hadn't been there in the first place then her secret might not have been exposed quite so publically. She sighed to herself, but she could tell he felt it. She had _known _meeting in the auditorium had been courting trouble. Yet neither of them could ever be dissuaded from grand gestures at the best of times, both too fond of the theatricality that came from making all the world their stage. And if Jesse _had_ been there for confrontations, violence would have ensued and everything would be so much worse than it even was now. She wanted him out of the line of fire, as strange as that urge of instinct was, considering he was the one who had led her in front of the firing squad in the first place.

"It was never going to be pretty," she said at last, the words released on a weary exhale.

Jesse thought on the tone of her reply, his sharp ear picking out each layer of her voice to studiously analyse. There was sadness of course, resignation and regret… but perhaps more a regret at the pain of the situation, rather than the situation itself. There was almost an acceptance there that this was in some ways inevitable – a rite of fire they had to cross through. Whether they would emerge the other side intact remained to be seen.

Still, there was no denying that Rachel was obviously deeply stung over her so-called friends' reactions of the afternoon. Jesse frowned. Naturally he had seen this coming but he still couldn't help but feel frustrated at his lack of influence over that side of her life, his inability to cushion the blow of such wounds. She always put such stock in other people; let them have such control over her self-esteem. It was part of what had bothered him the most about her infatuation with Finn, that unhealthy amount of power she gave him. It was true that Jesse hadn't been able to stop himself from looking for such repeating patterns in their own relationship, but their dynamic had proved rather unique. While Rachel would always be more invested in her peers than him, she had never seemed shy about being herself around him, embracing all the talented crazy that made her so infuriating and exciting to be with. Yet seeing her now, it was clear that the longing for acceptance had come to dominate her usually defiant personality, leaving her more vulnerable and apologetic than he had ever imagined. And it only made him angrier at the ones who had caused Rachel such pain, the hypocrites who had lashed out at him through her. He firmed his grip around her waist and allowed his fingers to drift across her stomach in an unconscious gesture of assurance, one that was as much for him as it was for her. He was distracted from his thoughts at the sound of her voice once more, her tone now pensive and curious.

"How did you get past my dads?"

There was a pause of consideration. "With difficulty," he answered finally.

Rachel smiled a little at the thought of Jesse talking his way past her worried and protective parents. She knew she'd have a lot of explaining to do come tomorrow, but right then she couldn't bring herself to feel anything other than grateful that despite all their misgivings, they had let him come to her. She would never know how her dads managed to do that, always somehow making the right call even when they were in the dark. Somehow sensing what she needed even before she did. Because as she lay there in the warmth of his embrace, Rachel knew even if it was just for tonight – that this, that _he_, was exactly what she needed right now. She didn't want to be alone anymore.

"You know, I don't think they like me."

She smirked. "Imagine that."

Rachel wasn't sure how long they lay like that, still and quiet, lost in the limbo of their own minds. Truthfully, she didn't quite know where all her anger had gone. She could hate him, she could decide it was all his fault, she could accuse him of playing her all along. But she didn't. Maybe the bitterness had been overtaken by exhaustion, but she found it was only the chill of apprehension that flickered inside her heart as she slowly tilted her head up to catch his eyes.

"Jesse, why…"

He was silent for a long moment as he looked at her, the strain in his throat barely perceptible as he swallowed back the painful words that just wouldn't reach his voice. He brushed a finger down the side of her face, tracing an ebony curl, guilt preventing him from holding her gaze any longer. "Why what?" he asked softly.

Rachel felt her eyes flutter close at the caress of his touch, her chest tightening._ Everything_, she wanted to say.

_Why did you not fight for us?_

_Why did you come back? _

_Why did you sleep with me?_

"Nothing," she said instead, shaking away the questions and laying her head down on his shoulder again. Blinking through the fire in her eyes, she pressed her lips together and wrapped her arm tight around his chest, needing him here right now more than she needed answers, not prepared to risk the replies that might break this precious reprieve.

_Coward. Coward. Coward._

Jesse winced at the voice inside his head, biting his tongue as he held her close, feeling her settle down against him with a white grip, a simmering desperation growing between them that wouldn't be held back much longer. Why couldn't he _say _it? He'd spent so long building up the perfect show face, those walls of steel and thorn that made him so ruthless, and it was a survival habit not broken easily. Yet underneath all those hardened barriers was a more fundamental reason behind his compulsive reluctance. He was _afraid_. The truth was that the consequences of Rachel's love terrified Jesse more than anything else. He couldn't lose his heart, he couldn't leave it here. A thin and bitter smirk touched his lips, unseen by the girl curled against him. As if withholding the words would make the inevitable hurt any less.

Once again the melody of her voice broke into his thoughts, barely more than a murmur but somehow chiming clearer than the sweetest bell.

"Talk to me," she said quietly, the words neither a request nor a demand.

He stroked her hair, lips brushing the crown of her head. "About what?"

"Anything…else."

She just wanted to lose herself in his voice, to let him distract her, to think about anything else but what lay waiting for them outside these walls. To try and forget, just for a little while. And Jesse was perfectly willing to oblige.

She listened as he told her of his favourite haunts back in California, the latest shows he had seen in L.A, and Rachel felt her brow pinch a little in jealousy as she realised the extent of the artistic scene he was exposed to there. Maybe there was more to L.A. than burger bars and strip clubs after all. Content to just let him talk, she let his words wash through her weary mind, calming the pounding ache of her tortured thoughts. It was only when he mentioned an amateur production of a play that she hadn't yet heard of, did she lift her head to immediately ask about it. Rachel already knew that Jesse was a captivating storyteller and she found it easy to drift away in the sound of his voice, the evocative imagery of his script, as he smiled and indulged her curious questions. She laughed a little as he described the play, a tale of children and lovers and crossing worlds, until the ultimate tragedy of their misadventures made her heart pang in grief and empathy. She absently watched her fingers tracing one of the buttons on his shirt before realising what she was doing. She pulled back, wishing she could sit on her hands without making it obvious. Jesse gave a small smile of sad amusement but said nothing.

It was some time later, when the conversation had fallen back into companionable quiet and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, did Jesse set about gently extricating himself from their knotted limbs. His movements were met with soft sounds of protest, to which he smiled and assured that he was just going to the bathroom. Rachel blinked a little blearily, as if only half aware of her actions. Her fingers loosened on his shirt as she laid her head down on the pillow again, rolling away from him with a sleepy mumble. Jesse made his way to the en suit in the darkness without much difficulty, his familiarity with the room negating the need for light to guide him.

The cold water was a welcome snap on his senses, stinging his eyes and making his skin tingle. Bracing his hands on either side of the sink, Jesse stared into the mirror for a long time, a pained frown gracing his beautiful features. His gaze was distant, searching somewhere miles and months away, fighting to find a resolve he wasn't sure he could live with. Finally tearing his eyes away from the glass, he ran his hands back through his hair and straightened up with a sigh. He glanced over the pink toothbrush that stood to attention in its neat silver cup, the soft monogramed towels that hung beside the shower, before he turned the light out over them all.

He was not surprised to find Rachel fast asleep when he returned, all the emotional drama of the day finally catching up with her. She was curled up in the faint impression left by his body on the bed, almost like a cat seeking out the comfort and protection of a familiar warmth, the dark silk of her hair falling to fan out about her shoulders. Jesse hesitated, unsure whether to take the opportunity to slip away, but one look at her only confirmed that he couldn't leave like that. He had to see through the night. Ever so gently, so as not to disturb her, he lay down again on the edge of the bed. Her breathing was deep and steady, matched only by the disembodied tick of a clock somewhere in the darkness, and Jesse let the sound comfort him, the only anchor to ground him in the turmoil of his thoughts. His eyes drifted across her face again and again, as if the answer was hidden within the curve of her lips or shadow of her lashes, until finally he too succumbed to sleep.

**[o]**

"Jesse?"

"Mmmm..."

"Are you awake?"

"No."

His response was received with an insistent poke to the chest. He groaned and stirred to find that the small space he had carefully left between their bodies had since been closed during their sleep. Rachel's arm was draped across his torso at an angle, her hand reaching up to his neck and her face pillowed on his shoulder, their toes touching. He felt fingertips digging into his shirt persistently and pulled the warm form in his arms closer against him, their bodies moulding together like fitted puzzle pieces. "What?" he mumbled.

There was a pause before she answered.

"I'm hungry."

Jesse opened an eye and squinted down at her face in the darkness. He blinked for a moment before chuckling softly, smiling into her hair. "I think your dads may have mentioned something about leftovers in the fridge…"

"Of what?"

"Hmm, I believe falafel and hummus was on the menu."

He saw her eyes light up and laughed, kissing her forehead. "I'll get it," he offered, despite how reluctantly he removed himself from her side.

Rachel smiled in gratitude. She didn't want to face her dads just yet, although she knew they had likely retreated to their bedroom by now. She watched as Jesse stood and disappeared into the hallway before rolling onto her back with a drawn out sigh. She frowned as her foot touched something hard and she leaned over, reaching down to fumble through the tangled covers and finally withdrawing her cell phone. She had forgotten all about it. Turning to put it back on the nightstand and out of the way, she hesitated as she noticed the familiar blinking light that announced she had a new message.

Her gut dropped with dread. She _really_ didn't want to look. It would just be more abuse, more pointed digs and accusations. But it was nigh on impossible for Rachel to shelf her compulsive need to _know_ everything, the anticipation and possibilities would only taunt her for the rest of the night. Grasping the cell firmly, she took a deep breath to brace herself and opened the text before she could think about backing out.

The message wasn't from Finn, or Mercedes or even Kurt. Rachel blinked in surprise at the three simple words that popped up on her screen and the name that accompanied them.

_Are you okay?_

Mike.

The small but sincere message of concern was almost enough to start her crying again. Shaking her head she quickly brushed the threat of tears away, closing her eyes as she wondered how on earth to answer such a question.

_Everyone hates me._

She wasn't really expecting a reply at this hour, so she was taken aback when her cell flashed in response almost immediately, surprised that he was still up. Then again, she did remember him mentioning that he had trouble sleeping and often kept late nights. It was all that restless energy that fuelled his gravity defying dance moves running riot.

_Everyone's…in shock. Rach, are you sure about this?_

_No_, she thought with a sad smile. Rachel sighed, combing her fingers through her hair before wincing at how tangled it was. All that crying had taken its toll. Her eyes drifted over Mike's text again, deeply touched at the sole olive branch of support offered in her forest of exile, no matter how much it hurt. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

_Have you seen Finn?_

There was a definite pause in his response this time.

_No. Don't think anyone has, though Puck did try to call him a couple of times after rehearsal. But it's pretty much radio silence._

Rachel bit her lip, feeling awful at the thought of him suffering somewhere out there all alone. And it only made her feel all the more wretched for indulging in the company of the one person that Finn hated more than her right now. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. She dreaded to think of his reaction if he knew just whose arms she was taking comfort in tonight. But at least Finn had people reaching out to him; at least he could choose to open the door to support and friendship when he wanted to. He would get through this. Rachel had to believe he would, even if she didn't.

Mike seemed to sense her hesitation and was quick to reassure.

_He just needs some time to cool off. Don't worry, they're not going to go looking for a fight._

Rachel arched an eyebrow. She had doubts about that, remembering just how violently Finn had turned on Puck, his best friend, when the whole babygate saga had come to a head last year. Everybody had a breaking point. She laid a hand over the pillow next to her, still warm with his heat, and she knew that Jesse was out of reach of the boys of glee right now, and the thought made her feel guilty and relieved at the same time. This was her fight ultimately, not his.

_Thanks Mike._

She wasn't sure what else to say.

_It's okay. I just hope you know what you're doing._

_So do I._

Closing the phone over, Rachel let out a long sigh, trying to fight off the encroaching headache. Lost in her thoughts as she was, she didn't notice Jesse as he returned a few minutes later to see her twirling the cell absently between her fingers with a soft frown on her face.

"Rach?"

Looking over at the sound of her name, she saw him stiffen as his eyes flickered to the phone. His expression was clouded, his jaw set tight, and she knew what he was thinking. Putting the cell aside, she tried to give him a confident smile.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, it's fine," she assured, gesturing that she was okay and that there was no cause for concern. Not right now anyway. Mike's text had caught her off guard, yes, but it was nothing like the unpleasant attack she had been expecting. It had just given her some more troubles to think about when she had the energy to function again.

Jesse was not convinced, her words doing nothing to ease the worry that filled his mind at her sudden introspectiveness. Pronounced shadows of sadness had crept back into her eyes and it pained him to see it. However it was clear that she wanted to drop the subject and he had no right to push it, so he decided not to.

Rachel smiled as she saw him set the tray down, the tubs of food, forks and two bottles of water he had stacked it with. Apparently they would be eating picnic style tonight. Not that she minded or was particularly surprised. He was a guy after all. Things like crockery didn't really occur to him, tupperware would suffice. She _was _surprised and touched though when she noticed the little bottle of tobasco sauce he had brought up, apparently remembering how much she liked to add it to this favourite dish of hers.

As he straightened up to pass her a drink, Rachel caught him by the front of his collar and pulled their faces close across the bed. She could feel him tense slightly, though she didn't know if it was with surprise or anticipation. Maybe both. "Thank you," she murmured, her whisper warm against his mouth. For what, neither could comprehensively say, yet they didn't need to. She was almost unnerved to find that their proximity was just as electrifying as ever, a familiar fire flaring in her stomach as she breathed in his scent like fresh spring air. She felt her senses slipping away and she couldn't bring herself to think anymore. Slowly, almost shyly, Rachel moved in and pressed her lips to his with a teasing softness. Her head reeled as she felt him return the kiss with growing heat, his hand coming up to cup her jaw and drawing her deeper as they savoured the all-too-brief touch, the taste sweeter than nectar and more intoxicating than the headiest wine. At last Rachel forced herself to break the contact, withdrawing gently to catch her breath and open her eyes once more, a quirk of her eyebrow bringing their attention back to the food he had retrieved. As much as she was tempted, as natural as the response was, she really was _very _hungry. Jesse sighed and took the hint, his mouth tugging in a grin which echoed her own.

Somewhere in the house a clock struck one in the morning but neither took any notice of the hour as they settled themselves down on her bed, wreathed in the glow of a solitary lamp, with their forks and plastic tubs of cold falafel salad. And as they shared the meal, they also shared memories and anecdotes of times less dark, less complicated and unsure. Small moments from their pasts that still drew a laugh or a smile from each. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Rachel felt like herself again. Like she could forget about the rest of the world and pretend everything was normal again, even if it was just for a few hours.

Conversation flowed easily, far more comfortably than it should have, enjoying the amnesty of an unspoken truce. Keeping to the harbour of safe and familiar topics, their discussion soon turned to the most hotly debated topics of the latest Tony Awards, including the nominees for Best Original Score and Nina Arianda's choice of dress. Rachel smiled to herself, reflecting that Jesse was the only guy she could have this kind of conversation with. Well, the only _straight_ guy, she mentally amended with a smirk. She remembered the first time she had confronted him on this curiosity of his character during a similar discussion last year, to which he had just shrugged and said that it didn't mean he couldn't still appreciate good fashion taste.

"_You're so vain!" she laughed. "You could give Kurt a run for his money sometimes."_

"_Just what are you implying?" _

_She smirked innocently, though her eyes shone bright with mischief. "Only that you have almost as many hair products as I do."_

"_Nothing wrong with taking pride in your appearance."_

_As she continued to tease him mercilessly, Jesse replied with only a wolfish smile before swiftly capturing her lips in a bruisingly hot kiss, as he set about proving just __**how **__straight he was. It was decidedly the most wickedly ravishing kiss they had shared so far, and it left Rachel dazed and dangerously breathless and firm in the conviction that if he ever were to switch teams, she might just die. Surely, the world couldn't be that cruel._

"_Convinced yet?" he queried smugly, pulling back an inch to graze her mouth with the smouldering words._

_She licked her lips subconsciously, looking up at him with a dusky gaze through lidded eyes, their faces still so close. "Not entirely."_

_Rachel yelped in surprise as he flashed a grin and pushed them over back onto the couch, before wrapping her arms and legs tight around him and eagerly disappearing into his kiss again._

Coming back to herself, Rachel found her cheeks blushing warm at the memory and noticed Jesse raise a quizzical eyebrow in response. Shaking it off, she lowered her eyes and quickly stuffed a forkful of salad into her mouth with such intent concentration that she heard him chuckle in bemusement. Catching his gaze again, she smiled a little sheepishly. The awkwardness was soon waved away as the conversation easily resumed and they returned to their midnight supper.

When the gnawing hunger in her stomach had sufficiently retreated and the tray had been safely stowed away, Rachel felt the lull of tiredness begin to beckon again. She nestled easily against him as they settled back down on the bed, the habit of his embrace too comforting to resist. Tucking her head under his chin, they lay quiet for a long time, both searching the darkness around them for the hint of a spark, a light to lead the way forward.

"What happens now?"

The voice that left her lips was timid and unsure, so unlike her own. It sounded lost.

_I don't know._

And the truth was he didn't. Probably neither of them did.

"We try and get some sleep."

"Good for the soul?" she teased half-heartedly.

He shrugged. "Insomnia is bad for your complexion."

She laughed a little, curling up tight against him, before turning silent. Rachel lost track of time as the night stretched on, seemingly endless. She was so tired, yet found she could not sleep anymore, dozing in and out of consciousness but still her thoughts swirled and spun and pounded against her head. Shifting, she turned over, breaking away from his contact in the hope of soothing her restless mind. It didn't help. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, filled with the salt of frustration and confusion and exhaustion, and in the darkness she cried. Pressing her face into the pillow she tried to stifle her soft sobs, to choke back the tears that rolled down her cheeks, not wanting to wake the boy who lay beside her.

She didn't know that Jesse had been awake ever since she had broken their hold, since her warmth had left his chest and her tremulous breathing had stirred the silence. He swallowed hard, unable to lie still any longer. They were pressed too close, he was too attuned to her body, and he could feel every shiver that shook her small frame against his. He could hear each sob that caught in her throat, and it pained him more than he ever thought possible. Moving carefully, so as not to startle her, he turned onto his side and gently eased her back into his embrace. She tensed for just a moment before slowly relaxing as his arm wrapped gently around her waist, reaching for his hand and firmly threading their fingers together.

Jesse felt her squeeze his hand, heard her sniff as she fought back fresh tears, and his heart jumped painfully in his chest, as if straining to get physically closer to hers. The fateful memory suddenly filled his mind, bringing a strange sense of calmness. Stroking his thumb over their tangled fingers, he leaned close to her ear and softly sang the words they had once shared such a long a time ago.

_I've been alone with you inside my mind  
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times  
I sometimes see you pass outside my door  
Hello, is it me you're looking for?_

Rachel drew in a breath at the familiar melody, the mutual memory washing over her in a tide of bittersweet warmth. If possible, it sounded even more beautiful the second time around, the bewitching rhythm of his voice matured with history and raw with intimacy. Smiling to herself through her tears, she picked up her cue with perfect timing, just like she had done before. Their songs in a seamless harmony from the moment they had met.

_I can see it in your eyes_  
_I can see it in your smile_  
_You're all I've ever wanted_  
_And my arms are open wide_

Turning over in his hold so they were facing each other, she met his eyes with a small but genuine smile. Jesse reached out and ran his thumb over her cheek, brushing away the tear tracks, both hesitating for only a moment before they sang the last lines together, completing each other's verses as they had always done.

_'Cause you know just what to say  
And you know just what to do  
And I want to tell you so much  
...I love you_

His palm lingered on her cheek, their gazes locked until the last note faded on the same breath. With a sigh, Rachel laid her head down on his chest and closed her eyes, her mind finally finding a peace within his voice as Jesse continued to softly hum their song in a lullaby until she fell asleep.

_What are you doing?_

He shook his head only slightly, forcing the thought aside, shutting a door on the accusing voice that piped up from the depths of his mind. Tonight was about her, what she needed, everything else could wait. At least for a few hours. He could give her this, only if it was just for tonight. Blinking fiercely, Jesse pressed a kiss into the fall of her hair as his heart broke into pieces.

* * *

**~o~** …_So you can make me whole **~o~**  
_

* * *

A Christmas gift to all the St. Berrians still out there (especially the ones who review, lol) Happy Holidays!


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